S.O.S. (Sugar Overload Situation)

by ayjwy910

Notes:

episode 0 csr character yujin
the twins are kids version of IVE leeseo and ZB1 Yujin

Chapter 1: the batter has been mixed

 

The scent of vanilla lingered in the air, too real for a dream. 

Wonyoung’s fingers twitched under her pillow, as if still kneading soft dough, her breath caught somewhere between sleep and anticipation. In her dream, she was standing in a white test kitchen, under bright lights and the eyes of a hundred critics — but none of them mattered. Only one did. 

An Yujin. 

Poised, cold, dazzling in black, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable as always. She lifted Wonyoung’s spoonful of mille-feuille to her lips, tasted, paused. 

And smiled. 

Wonyoung jolted awake. 

Her blanket was tangled around her legs, her heart racing, cheeks flushed with something far more dangerous than nerves. She blinked at the ceiling, groaning softly. 

“Seriously… again?” 

It wasn’t the first time she dreamed about An Yujin. But today — today of all days — was not the time for this. 

Wonyoung swung her legs over the side of the bed and exhaled, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. The small room around her was still dark, the sun just beginning to creep through the gauzy curtains. The small apartment smelled faintly of butter and sugar — her midnight trial run still lingered. 

Today was the day. 

Project Mise. 

An Global Foods golden ticket: a highly publicized culinary initiative promising investment, mentorship, and nationwide platform for one undiscovered food talent. Chefs, bakers, culinary visionaries across Korea had applied — but only ttwenty made the shortlist. Wonyoung was one of them. 

Because of Hanni, of course. 

Yujin’s long-time secretary, and Wonyoung’s college friend from her short-lived culinary school days. They’d bonded over shared misery and the strictest professor Seoul had ever known. Hanni had gone on to climb corporate ladders; Wonyoung, sideways through part-time bakery jobs and a pivot to Education. 

“Just a chance,” Wonyoung had begged over coffee weeks ago, when the Project Mise application window was about to close. “That’s all I’m asking. I’ll do the rest.” 

And Hanni had pulled strings — not too obvious, just enough to get her name on the internal list. 

Wonyoung had been counting the days ever since. Baking until her wrists ached. Watching videos of Michelin-starred patissiers until dawn. Tinkering with her pitch, memorizing food cost sheets, trying to craft not just a dessert, but a vision. Something unique enough to stand out, but polished enough to be taken seriously by her. 

An Yujin. 

CEO of An Food Holdings. The woman behind An Table, Korea’s crown jewel of fine dining empires — nine restaurants across Seoul, all elegant, disciplined, experimental. Her reputation was legendary: strict, unsparing, allergic to excuses. 

Wonyoung had admired her for years. Magazines. Late-night interviews. That viral clip of Yujin calling a three-star chef’s plating “lazy.” 

To others, she was intimidating. 

To Wonyoung, she was the dream.

And now, she had one shot to stand in front of her. One dish to change everything. 

She checked the clock — 6:17 a.m. Her presentation wasn’t until noon, but nerves made time irrelevant. She rose, stretched, and headed straight for the fridge. A single plate sat inside, sealed carefully in a bakery box. 

White sesame dacquoise with black garlic caramel cream, garnished with pickled pear and edible gold.

Savory and sweet. Safe but twisted just enough. 

She whispered to it like a prayer: “Don’t screw this up.” 

Her phone buzzed. A text from Hanni. 

“Don’t be late. She hates late. And don’t try to charm her. She’s made of stone.” 

Wonyoung smiled to herself. 

“Stone can still be warmed,” she muttered, tying her hair back.

The rest of her apartment was bare — an air fryer on the counter, baking books stacked beside unpaid bills, and a sketchbook full of pastry ideas she couldn’t afford to make.  

At 25, she wasn’t young enough to be the prodigy investors liked to romanticize. She wasn’t backed by a culinary institute. She wasn’t pedigreed. 

She was just a girl who knew how to bake and didn’t want to give up on it yet. 

And today, that had to be enough. She finally has the opportunity to showcase her skills. 

***

Sunlight filtered through the glass walls of the Yujin’s penthouse, reflecting off sleek marble floors and the edge of a still-steaming espresso cup. 

An Yujin stood by the kitchen island, pinning a pearl earring into place, her white blazer sharp enough to slice through tension. Her reflection in the glass gave nothing away — just pristine calm and cold efficiency. 

Until someone started crying. Loudly. 

“For god’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. 

Min-si, the now - former nanny, was seated on a stool by the dining table, tears streaming down her face as she dabbed at her hair with a towel. Sticky, stringy clumps of bubble gum clung to her scalp in shocking pink clumps — like grotesque confetti after a war. 

“I’m so sorry, Ms. An,” Min-si sobbed, clearly trying to hold on to the last shred of her dignity. “I—I was sleeping soundly last night and I guess… they—” 

“They,” Yujin said sharply, turning toward the source of all her headaches. 

Two small figures stood in the hallway, framed in morning light. 

Hyunseo, already dressed in her perfectly pressed school uniform, arms crossed, expression defiant. And beside her, Jinu, hair a little messy, gripping a plush white rabbit by the ear, eyes wide and not remotely sorry.

Yujin inhaled. Her temple throbbed. 

“Explain,” she said coolly, addressing the children like tiny, hostile board members. 

Hyunseo stepped forward first — ever the older sibling, though only by nineteen minutes.  

“She didn’t wake up yesterday, so we were late,” Hyunseo said matter-of-factly. “Again. I missed the beginning of music class. Again.” 

“She always buys takeout,” Jinu added, nose wrinkling. “She lied and said she cooked, but the rice still had the delivery tape on it! The chicken nuggets is so oily! You said no takeout.” 

“You said healthy food, Mommy,” Hyunseo said, voice sharp. “She gives us soup from a box and jelly buns. That’s not cooking. She is lazy!”

Jinu nodded, as if confirming the verdict. 

“She said she was ‘too tired.’ But she sleeps more than we do.” 

Yujin closed her eyes. Counted to three. 

When she opened them, Min-si was still sobbing quietly. The twins had seated themselves at the dining table, now occupied with peeling mandarins and whispering to each other, already over the chaos they’d caused. 

“Min-si,” Yujin said with practiced restraint, “thank you for your time. Hanni will handle your pay.”

The girl nodded miserably, wiping her nose. 

Five minutes later, Yujin was sliding into the back seat of her car, twins buckled in behind her. 

She dropped them off at their private school, pretending not to hear Hyunseo mutter “Let’s hope this teacher stays awake,” before skipping toward the gates. 

***

An Global Foods Headquarters sat in the heart of Gangnam — a clean-edged tower of glass, steel, and money. Her car pulled into the underground level and she stepped out, heels echoing as she ascended the private elevator to the executive floor. 

By the time Yujin entered her office, the storm of the morning had been replaced with silence — clinical, orderly. Just how she preferred it. 

She caught sight of her secretary as she walked in. 

“Hanni,” she said without slowing down, “is Project Mise ready?” 

Hanni jumped slightly, almost dropping the tablet in her hands. She blinked, then recovered — used to the rhythm of being Yujin’s right hand by now. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Hanni said crisply. “The final list of applicants are waiting in Conference Room A. Chefs, cooks, a few food innovators. There’s even a food science student from KAIST—” 

“Good,” Yujin cut in. “And I want you to find a new nanny.” 

Hanni blinked. “Again?” 

Yujin’s voice didn’t flinch. “One who can actually cook. Kid-friendly food. Nutritious, clean. No delivery meals. No jelly buns. Someone who can handle them.” 

There was a pause. A long one. 

Hanni didn’t say it aloud, but the words hung there anyway: 

This would be the sixth nanny this month. Ever since the— 

She stopped herself. 

Instead, she nodded. 

“Understood. I’ll start reviewing agencies.” 

“Thank you,” Yujin said, already halfway into her office. 

The door closed behind her with a soft finality. 

Hanni stood outside, sighing as she looked down at her tablet. How, exactly, did one find a unicorn nanny who was also a nutritionist, home chef, and child wrangler? 

“Maybe I should go to the church and pray,” she muttered. “Not a job listing.” 

She scratched her head. This was going to take all day — and a miracle. 

***

The kitchen floor was a war zone. 

Thirty stations. Thirty burners. Thirty chefs and cooks, all pushing their limits in what felt like organized chaos under fluorescent lights and the low thrum of pressure. Steam rose in soft clouds. Knives clacked rhythmically against chopping boards. Oils hissed as they hit hot pans, and someone shouted for more soy sauce behind Wonyoung. 

She didn’t turn. She couldn’t. 

Her hands were locked in motion — folding thin slices of lotus root into delicate fans, placing them like petals atop a bowl of barley porridge infused with roasted sesame and burdock tea. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, a faint smear of flour on her cheek, but her eyes were sharp. Focused. Burning. 

“Slow and clean, Wonyoung. No rushing. You practiced this a hundred times.” 

Wonyoung had always assumed that cooking competitions lasted weeks. Staged rounds, dramatic build-up, long hours to show every side of a chef’s soul. 

But Project Mise? 

It was brutal. 

Two days. No do-overs. No second chances. 

Thirty contestants today. Only five would remain by sunset. 

And this wasn’t some fun televised food festival. This was An Global Foods — the elite empire. One wrong move here meant disappearing from the industry’s radar for good. 

“Station Seventeen, five minutes remaining!” 

That was her. 

Wonyoung took a breath, steadying her hands as she added the last element: a dollop of fermented perilla oil cream, cold and herbal, right at the center. Her dish looked modest. Humble, even. But it held everything she believed in — warmth, memory, balance. 

Rice and roots. The food of her childhood, elevated for today. 

She placed her knife down, stepped back, and let her fingers unclench for the first time in an hour. 

Then she looked up. 

There — above them was An Yujin. 

Standing alone on the mezzanine balcony, looking down like a general surveying her battlefield. 

She was dressed head to toe in white — blazer, slacks, towering heels that clicked lightly as she shifted weight from one hip to the other. Her long black hair was sleek, falling past her shoulders in a sharp, straight curtain. The signature bangs framed a face that didn’t blink. 

She was flawless. Frightening. 

Beautiful. 

Wonyoung stared. Couldn’t help it. Her heart did a quiet, humiliating flip. 

It wasn’t just the outfit or the elegance. It was the control — the way Yujin stood with total stillness, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Her presence demanded attention without asking for it. 

All around her, men in suits and sous chefs with clipboards whispered and gestured, but Yujin said nothing. She simply watched. 

Judging. 

Waiting. 

And beneath her silence, Wonyoung felt it: the weight of expectation, like a cold hand pressing on her shoulders. Not just from the competition — from Yujin. The woman who built the An Table from six restaurants to a twelve-brand empire. The one who revolutionized the Korean tasting menu into a global headline. The woman who could single-handedly change your life with a nod. 

Or end your career with a blink. 

Yujin's eyes scanned the floor like a laser. Then, for the briefest second, they landed on Wonyoung. 

And passed right over her. 

Like she wasn’t even there. 

Wonyoung swallowed. 

“It’s fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll notice me eventually. You’ll have to.” 

Because Wonyoung hadn’t come this far to be forgettable. 

***

By the time Wonyoung reached the tasting table, her apron was damp with sweat and her heart was climbing up her throat. 

She stood behind her dish — hands clasped in front of her, posture straight but trembling inside — as three well-known critics and two An Table executive chefs leaned in with interest. Cameras weren’t rolling, but it felt like the entire industry was watching anyway. 

This is it, she told herself. Don’t fidget. Breathe. 

Her dish for the Top 15 round was a fermented soybean and perilla oil risotto, paired with soy-braised brisket bites topped with crispy lotus stem chips. Comfort food turned fine dining. Humble ingredients made elegant. 

One of the chefs took a bite and paused, tilting his head. Another nodded slowly as she picked up the second component. A third wrote something on a clipboard without looking at her. 

“Interesting texture on the brisket,” murmured the woman critic. “Rich, but not heavy. Balanced.” 

“Clean fermentation notes,” one of the executive chefs added. “You know how to build flavor. But you play it safe.” 

Wonyoung’s heart pinched. She bowed slightly. 

Then she felt it. That pull. 

As if the air shifted. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement above. On the balcony. 

An Yujin, no longer still and statue-like, had stepped closer to the railing. Her arms now rested gently on the glass, white blazer catching the afternoon light. She hadn’t said a word, but her gaze had focused directly on the tasting table — on Wonyoung. 

She wasn’t judging. Not yet. 

But she was watching. 

It changed everything. 

Wonyoung bowed again, deeper this time, her hands curling into fists behind her back to stop the shaking. She could feel the way the chefs still glanced between her dish and their notes, but all she could really feel was Yujin’s presence, silent and assessing from above like a god in a white suit. 

Don’t pass out. Don’t mess this up. Don’t cry. 

“Thank you,” one of the chefs said finally, dismissing her. 

She nodded, breath catching, and stepped away. 

***

Later that afternoon. 

The kitchen floor looked like a battlefield after the storm. Pans left to soak. Chopped herbs scattered across cutting boards. Aprons stained with oil, broth, blood, and effort. 

Wonyoung stood shoulder to shoulder with nineteen others, some older, some weathered, some bold. Some just tired. All of them had cooked multiple rounds since morning. 

Her legs ached. Her shoulders burned. But her heart still raced, full of nervous fire. 

The head judge — a tall man from one of An’s Michelin flagships —read names off a tablet. 

“Kim Sun-woo… Han Eunji… Choi Ha-ram…” 

Wonyoung’s throat dried. 

“Jang Wonyoung.” 

Her name hit the air like a chime. 

Her hands flew to her mouth as the other names blurred around her. She’d made it. Top 10. Somehow. Against all odds. 

She bowed fast and hard and bit back a laugh. She looked up to the balcony again — Yujin was gone. 

But her steps echoed inside Wonyoung’s head anyway. 

***

The challenge for the last round was personal: “Make a dish that represents who you are.” 

This time, Wonyoung didn’t hesitate. 

She rolled up her sleeves. Tied her hair tighter. And reached back — far beyond technique, beyond plating — to the warm kitchen of her childhood. 

She recreated a dish her grandmother used to make every Chuseok: 

Beoseot-Galbi Jjim over Nurungji Jeon
(Braised beef short ribs with mushrooms in soy-garlic glaze, served over a crispy rice pancake with jujube-sesame chutney) 

It was rustic, sweet and savory, heavy with nostalgia. But Wonyoung made it modern — she layered wild Korean pine mushrooms, used aged soy sauce and a reduction of pear and cinnamon, and infused the braise with black garlic oil. 

The crispy rice pancake soaked the braising liquid just enough to add crunch under the ribs. She garnished it with fried jujube curls and gold flakes, just a touch. 

She plated it and carried it, carefully, to the judge’s table. 

And this time, Yujin was seated there. 

Right in the middle. 

Still in white. Still impossibly poised. But closer now. Real. 

Wonyoung held her breath as Yujin’s chopsticks touched the edge of the rib. 

She took one bite. Chewed. Then took another bite of the pancake. 

For a long moment, she said nothing. 

And then — the tiniest smile curved at the edge of her lips. 

Just one side. Barely there. But it was a smile. 

Wonyoung felt like her knees might give out. 

The head chef praised the complexity. Another judge complimented her restraint. But Wonyoung barely heard them. She kept her eyes on Yujin’s face, drinking in that single expression like it was the only reward she’d ever wanted. 

Yujin finally looked at her directly and said in that cool, smooth voice: 

“See you tomorrow.” 

And that was it. 

Wonyoung bowed so quickly her ponytail whipped over her shoulder. As she walked back to her station, her chest felt too small for the joy inside it. 

She didn’t just survive the day. 

She had made An Yujin smile. 

***

The doors of the executive boardroom slid open with a hush, and An Yujin stepped out in silence, her heels making no sound on the velvet-padded carpet of the top floor hallway. She was the last to leave, as always. The other judges had already made their final notes, sipped the last of their ginger tea, and left the tasting floor behind them, satisfied with the Top Five for Day One. 

But Yujin? 

She was still chewing on something — not food, but feeling. 

Inside her sleek, glass-walled office, the lights turned on automatically as she entered. The Gangnam skyline stretched endlessly behind her desk, a muted sea of concrete and silver under the violet hue of early dusk. She took off her blazer, draped it carefully on the back of the chair, and sat down, her posture straight even in solitude. 

On the desk sat a stack of documents — supplier contracts, new floor plans for the Cheongdam branch remodel, and a tentative Michelin guest calendar for their Tokyo expansion. She didn’t touch any of them. 

Instead, she rested her elbow on the desk and placed two fingers to her temple, like she was trying to hold back a thought. 

Contestant Seventeen. 

Jang Wonyoung. 

That name kept echoing in her head, soft but insistent. 

Her dish wasn’t the most complex. It lacked the dramatic technicality of the sous-vide duck from contestant nine, or the explosive umami punch of contestant four’s sea urchin risotto. 

It was deceptively modest — braised beef short ribs, earthy mushrooms, crisped rice base. Homey. 

But the second the spoon hit her tongue, something unfamiliar settled in Yujin’s chest. 

Warmth. 

The quiet comfort of being fed, rather than impressed. 

It wasn’t the kind of food that earned stars. But it was the kind of food that stuck with you. The kind of food that wrapped around your ribs and said, “You’re home.” 

And maybe that was why she smiled. 

The first — and only — time she had all day. 

She didn’t even realize it had happened until one of the other chefs quietly remarked, “You liked that one, huh?” 

Yujin hadn’t answered. She didn’t need to. Her face had already betrayed her. 

Everyone always tries to cook me something clever, she thought. Something expensive. They try to impress, to break boundaries, to show off. But this girl… she cooked me something from the heart. 

And that made her dangerous. 

Not as a competitor — but as someone who could make Yujin feel. 

The knock on the door snapped her out of it. 

“Come in,” she said without turning. 

Hanni entered, tablet in hand, still in her black slacks and no-nonsense bun, the only person alive who could walk into Yujin’s space without fear. 

“Quick update before I head out,” Hanni said, voice tight. “Still no luck on the nanny.” 

Yujin didn’t react. Not immediately. 

“I pushed the ad on all platforms, increased its visibility, and started calling agencies directly. But no one’s biting. Not after hearing it’s your kids. Sorry.” 

Yujin leaned back in her chair with a slow, exasperated exhale. She stared at the ceiling for a beat. 

“Double the salary.”  

Hanni blinked. “Double?” 

“They’re worth the trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. 

Hanni paused, the silence stretching just enough to imply all the things she didn’t say:

That this would be the seventh nanny in two months. That Hyunseo and Jinu had developed a reputation even among private school circles. That ever since the press began murmuring… the twins had become something harder to reach. 

“I’ll keep trying,” Hanni said gently, turning to leave. 

Yujin watched the door shut behind her. 

She folded her arms on the desk and stared into the quiet, wondering if she could truly trust anyone again — in the kitchen, in her boardroom, or in her own home. 

Hopefully by tomorrow, she thought bitterly, the twins will have a new nanny. Preferably one who can cook. 

***

Wonyoung barely slept. 

She told herself she was fine. That the few hours she spent hunched over cookbooks, scribbling tasting notes, and watching replays of old culinary competitions were enough. But her body betrayed her. Her eyes stung. Her fingers cramped even as she diced imaginary onions in the air, practicing knife rhythms by muscle memory alone. 

She paced the cramped kitchen of her shared apartment until dawn, testing flavor pairings in her head, whispering ingredient lists under her breath like prayers. 

“This is your last chance,” she murmured to herself. “Make it count.” 

By the time the afternoon sun filtered through the tinted windows of An Food Holdings’ central kitchen studio, Wonyoung was already in her apron, hair pulled into a sleek high ponytail, apron crisp and eyes heavy with sleep but sharpened by purpose. 

Top 5. 

They were down to the best of the batch — four others with incredible talent, restaurant experience, or knife skills honed from childhood. Every hour now came with a challenge. And every round, someone would be cut. 

Round One: Pasta 

The challenge: “Comfort on a Plate.” 

Wonyoung made her go-to safety net: a gochujang cream pasta with crispy pork belly, shaved parmesan, and pickled scallions — a fusion dish she’d served many times at pop-ups in college. 

It was spicy, creamy, warm — but halfway through plating, her nerves kicked in. 

Too safe. Too familiar. 

Yujin’s eyes met hers at the tasting table. Her face was unreadable until she placed her fork down and offered a mild comment: 

“It’s good. But I’ve had this on four menus this month alone. You’re blending in.” 

Wonyoung’s heart sank — but the contestant next to her had overcooked their noodles and underseasoned their sauce. She made it through. Barely. 

Round Two: Seafood 

The challenge: “Fire & Water.” 

This time, Wonyoung stepped up. 

She cooked butter-poached lobster with perilla-pepper sauce, charred spring onions, and black sesame tempura flakes. A refined plate — spicy, buttery, oceanic. 

One judge nodded in genuine approval. Another asked if she’d trained in traditional Korean sauces (she hadn’t — she just studied obsessively). 

Yujin gave her a small, appreciative glance. 

No words. But a glance. 

It was enough. 

Round Three: The Turning Point 

The round was open-ended. “Show us who you are.” 

And that was when Wonyoung did something no one expected. 

She walked to her station. Took a deep breath. 

And began prepping a cake. 

The room shifted. 

From across the kitchen, Yujin noticed. She stood up from the judge’s table and walked to Wonyoung’s station — something she hadn’t done all day. 

Wonyoung looked up mid-whisk, startled, as the imposing figure in white approached. 

“...A cake?” Yujin asked, one eyebrow lifting. 

Her voice wasn’t mocking. It was curious. But cold. 

Almost like she was warning her. 

“You’re making a cake in under sixty minutes?” 

Wonyoung didn’t flinch. 

“Yes,” she said, firmly. “A chiffon cake. Makgeolli and yuzu. With soybean brittle. I know it’s not a main course, but… I want to take the risk.” 

There was a pause. The other contestants stole glances. No one said anything. 

Yujin’s lips twitched, as if she almost smiled — not quite. 

“Surprise me,” she said. And then she turned and walked away. 

Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might make her hands shake. But they didn’t. Not this time. She knew this dessert. It was hers — her grandmother’s makgeolli, the brittle she made as a teenager when she couldn’t afford real candy, the flavors she dreamed of bottling into a pastry shop of her own. 

***

“Jang Wonyoung.” 

Yujin’s voice was even, almost clinical, as she stood beside Wonyoung’s station, watching her swiftly fold the batter. Her expression, as always, was unreadable — sharp eyes beneath bangs too perfect to be accidental, arms crossed over her white tailored suit like a final judge, not just of food but of fate. 

“You still have time,” Yujin said quietly. 

Wonyoung glanced up, fingers still whisking, her eyes wide but burning. 

“If you change your menu now, you can still pull something else off. You have maybe… thirty-five minutes. Something simpler. A protein. Even a dumpling. You don’t have to do this.” 

The kitchen clanged around them. Someone was already frying fish; another was torching quail. 

But Wonyoung didn’t stop moving. 

“I want to do this,” she said, her voice firm despite the trembling in her hands. “I need to do this.” 

Yujin watched her for a beat longer. Then gave the smallest nod. 

“If you say so.”

And she walked away. 

The next hour was a blur of motion and noise. 

Wonyoung moved fast, but the batter — her batter — was stubborn. She had spent too much time whisking it by hand, trying to get the egg whites just right. Her arms were sore. She kept glancing at the oven timer. 

With fifteen minutes left, she opened the oven. 

Her heart dropped. 

The cake had risen — barely. 

The center sagged. The edges held. The middle was dense, uneven. There wasn’t enough time left to bake another. Not even close. Even if she put the temperature higher.

She stared at it in horror. The dream she poured into sugar, milk, and makgeolli now looked like a white chocolate lava cake, soft and slumped. 

Her hands began to shake. 

No, no, no... 

The other contestants were plating. Garnishing. Smiling. 

She was crying. 

She wiped her tears and set the pan down. Her sleeves were damp. Her eyes were red. Still, she cut a slice, added the brittle, the omija syrup, the cream. 

It still tastes like what I meant, she told herself. Even if it doesn’t look like it. 

***

She stepped to the judge’s table, holding the plate like it might fall apart. Her fingers clutched the edges too tightly. 

Silence.

The first judge blinked slowly. “...Is this your dish?” 

She nodded. 

Another looked confused. “Is it supposed to be… this texture?” 

The head chef didn’t even reach for his fork. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, gently pushing the plate aside. “We have standards in presentation. We can’t judge a failed bake.” 

Another shook their head. “You really gambled with a cake? You’ve been warned. You’re stubborn.”

 Wonyoung said nothing. Her heart felt like it was sliding out of her chest. 

This was it. This was the end.
 
Except— 

Yujin picked up her fork. 

Everyone looked at her. Even the other judges. 

She cut into the sunken cake, took a bite, and paused. 

“…It’s delicious,” she said softly. “But sadly, it didn’t rise.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes met hers. They were glassy with grief. 

“Why?” Yujin asked. “Why make a dessert at this stage? When you knew the challenge?” 

Wonyoung swallowed. Her throat was dry, but her voice came out, shaking but true. 

“Because… I want to open a pastry shop. That’s always been the dream.” 

The air stiffened. One of the judges actually gasped. 

A tall man at the end of the panel leaned back in his chair. “You… what?” 

“This is Project Mise,” another judge said. “An incubator for restaurants. Not cafés. Not bakeries.” 

“But I cook,” Wonyoung said. “I bake. I develop recipes. I test flavor. I—” 

“And what’s your background, Miss Jang?” someone interrupted. “Where did you train?” 

Wonyoung hesitated. 

“I didn’t graduate culinary school,” she said. “I studied education. And nutrition. I took seminars. I worked part-time at bakeries. I sold online for a while. I practiced. I’ve always loved food. But I couldn’t afford a fancy school.” 

The silence was heavier now. No one was smiling. 

One of the older judges crossed his arms. 

“A pastry shop isn’t scalable,” he said flatly. “Even the best ones has no choice but to grow, they eventually add food, they become restaurants. That’s how you survive. That’s where Michelin stars live. In tasting menus, not cookies.” 

Another chimed in, almost kindly: 

“Your dream… might need to change. If you want to be taken seriously. Pastry chefs get absorbed in restaurant, their recipes are in the restaurants.” 

Wonyoung was crying now. Quietly. She didn’t wipe her tears. She just bowed her head and stood still, letting it happen. 

Then the final blow came from the head chef, his voice low and professional: 

“Project Mise doesn’t invest in pastry chefs. Or bakery owners.
We develop leaders for kitchens that will bring Michelin stars back to An Table.” 

That was it. 

Wonyoung gave one final bow. Her hands were still trembling. Her chest was tight. Her heart felt splintered under every word. 

She turned around and walked away. 

But just before she stepped behind the black curtain, she glanced back— 

Yujin was still watching her. 

“This isn’t a place for people who bake for love, Jang Wonyoung.
It’s for those who can build empires.” 

A still moment. Wonyoung freezes. 

“Good food won’t be enough. Not here.” 

***

The smell of grilled pork filled the air, thick with smoke and sizzling fat. Somewhere behind the steam, Wonyoung sat hunched over a silver table, her eyes red and puffy, clutching a soju glass like it was her last thread of pride. 

Hanni reached across with the tongs, flipping over thick cuts of pork belly while watching Wonyoung with careful eyes. The younger woman hadn’t said much since they arrived — just silent tears and the occasional muttered apology to herself. 

“I’m so stupid,” Wonyoung said at last, her voice raw. “Who brings a cake to a chef competition?” 

“You do,” Hanni replied simply, pouring her another shot. “Because that’s who you are.” 

“It didn’t even rise,” Wonyoung mumbled, pressing her palms to her cheeks. “It was like… a white puddle. I cried in front of Yujin. And the judges. I looked like a child throwing a tantrum—” 

“You looked passionate,” Hanni cut in. 

“I looked pathetic,” Wonyoung said, her voice breaking. “I have no culinary degree. No business plan. I just quit my job teaching kindergarteners for this, because I really thought — I really thought Project Mise would notice me.” 

She let out a breath that sounded more like a sob. “I dream too big. And now I failed big.” 

Hanni poured herself a shot but didn’t drink it. 

“You studied nutrition, though,” she said quietly. “And early childhood development, right? That counts for something.” 

Wonyoung gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, that’s really helpful when applying to Michelin-starred restaurants.” 

Silence settled between them, only broken by the crackle of pork and the soft hum of chatter around the restaurant. Hanni took a sip of soju, eyes fixed on the grill, then spoke without looking up. 

“Hmm… are you interested in taking care of nightmare twins?” 

Wonyoung blinked. “What?” 

Hanni met her eyes now. “Yujin’s latest nanny quit yesterday morning. And not just quit — fled. The twins put gum in her hair while she was asleep. She woke up looking like a scene from a horror movie.” 

Wonyoung stared in horror. “That’s— are you serious?” 

Hanni nodded solemnly. 

“Oh my god,” Wonyoung said, blinking slowly. 

“But listen to me first.” Hanni leaned in, lowering her voice. “The job pays ₩5 million a month.” 

Wonyoung choked on her soju. “What?” 

“It’s double the standard live-in nanny salary,” Hanni said calmly, grilling the meat like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “And Yujin’s offering it because she’s desperate. No one stays longer than a week.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “That’s like… chef money. Are you joking?” 

“I never joke about money,” Hanni said, popping a slice of meat into Wonyoung’s bowl. “She wants someone who can cook proper food for the kids. Healthy, balanced, not just takeout. Someone who understands child development and isn’t afraid of chaos. You check all the boxes.” 

Wonyoung looked dazed. “I just bombed in front of your boss and now you want me to… live in her house?” 

“Yujin doesn’t care about your pride. She wants peace. You’re good with kids. You make fiber-packed muffins. You’re her only hope.” 

“But how can I show up in front of her again?” Wonyoung whispered. “She probably thinks I’m delusional.” 

“Then be honest,” Hanni said gently. “Tell her you need the job. That you’re qualified, just not in the way they expect. You’re not trying to impress her this time — just help.” 

Wonyoung was quiet for a long time. The smoke, the grease, the warmth of the soju began to settle into her bones. 

“₩5 million a month…” she murmured again. “That’s enough to save. Maybe even take weekend classes.” 

“Exactly, think of it this way,” Hanni said, smiling faintly. “Not the dream job. But a step toward the dream.” 

Wonyoung looked down at the grilled meat, untouched. 

Then she picked up her chopsticks. 

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll try it. For the money.” 

***

The door to the CEO’s office swung open with an almost theatrical softness. Wonyoung stepped inside, every part of her trying not to let her nerves show. Her heels clicked gently against the glossy floor as she entered the space — cool, modern, and imposing with its floor-to-ceiling windows and shelves lined with awards, thick cookbooks, and sharp red accents that echoed the woman sitting at the center of it all. 

There, on the edge of a massive desk, sat An Yujin. 

She was dressed in head-to-toe crimson: a fitted blazer with sharp shoulders, tailored slacks that elongated her already statuesque figure, sleek red stilettos, and a red satin blouse with the top button tastefully undone. Her long black hair was straight and immaculate, and her signature bangs framed her face like they were styled by an editorial team. For a moment, Wonyoung felt like she had walked straight into The Devil Wears Prada, except this devil already knew her name. 

Yujin didn’t speak at first. She just watched her with unreadable eyes, legs crossed elegantly, fingers playing with the corner of a résumé folder. 

Wonyoung swallowed. “Good morning… Miss An.” 

Yujin smirked. “Miss An?” She tilted her head slightly, amused. “You were a lot bolder when you served me a collapsed cake and said it came from your heart.” 

Wonyoung flushed, awkwardly clutching the hem of her blouse as she sat down in the chair across from her. “That’s true. But I was under pressure, and this is… different.” 

“Is it?” Yujin’s tone was teasing, but there was steel underneath. She picked up the résumé from beside her. “When I read this, I thought someone was pulling a prank. You — contestant seventeen — applying to be a nanny for my twins?” 

Wonyoung forced a polite smile. “It’s not a joke. I have a background in child education and nutrition. I may not be a pastry chef yet, but I do know how to take care of children… and cook healthy meals.” Her voice softened. “Also… the salary offer was hard to ignore.” 

There was a pause, and then Yujin chuckled under her breath. “Well. I do appreciate honesty.” She crossed her arms, studying Wonyoung with a lazy intensity. “But I should warn you — my kids aren’t just any kids. They’re…” she searched for the word with an arched brow, “...mischievous.” 

Wonyoung bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “You mean stubborn kids.” 

Yujin leaned forward. “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Wonyoung replied quickly. “I just… look forward to meeting them.” 

“Mmm.” Yujin’s smirk returned. “You say that now. Let’s see how long it lasts.” 

Just then, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, then stood, grabbing a business card from a drawer. She extended it between two fingers. 

“The second part of the interview is tonight. My penthouse. Six o’clock. The address is on the back.” 

Wonyoung hesitated as she took the card, her fingertips grazing Yujin’s for the briefest second. The air between them shifted — tightened — before Yujin pulled her hand away. 

“You’ll have to cook later too,” Yujin added casually as she turned away. “They hate spinach. They hate everything, really. Except trouble.” 

Wonyoung stood up, clutching the card. “I’ll… be there.” 

Yujin didn’t look back. “I know.” 

As the door closed behind her, Wonyoung stared at the business card in her hand, the glossy card burning in her palm like it carried more than just an address. It felt like a test — and somehow, it wasn’t just about the twins.

***

 

 

Chapter 2: welcome to the castle

 

Wonyoung arrived at the building 30 minutes early. 5:30 PM sharp. She smoothed the hem of her dress, her lips painted a shade she thought said “hire me” more than “notice me.” She wanted to make a good impression, not just for Yujin — but for herself. For her dream, her future. 

The luxury building’s reception desk gleamed under warm gold lighting. The doorman, dressed in polished navy uniform, gave a professional smile when she approached. 

“Good evening,” Wonyoung said, her voice calm but her hands a little clammy. “I’m here for an interview with Ms. An. She’s expecting me.” 

The man gave a knowing nod. “Yes, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Right this way.” He gestured toward the private elevator, the kind only a handful of people in Seoul had access to. “Penthouse floor. Ms. An said to send you up directly.” 

Wonyoung gave a polite bow. “Thank you.” 

As the elevator rose, she inhaled and exhaled deeply. You’re here to take care of kids, not impress the Queen of Food Empire Korea. And yet, her heart thudded louder the closer the number ticked up. Penthouse. Just the word felt surreal. 

The doors slid open. And there was a short hallway towards another door. And when she opened it.

And she was hit with absolute bedlam. 

The air was filled with the sounds of high-pitched shrieks, running footsteps, and the occasional loud thud of soft things crashing onto expensive floors. A pink bunny plushie flew across the hall like a missile, landing on the marble near her feet. Two small, fast figures darted across the room. A high-pitched voice rang out: 

“You won’t win this time, villain!” 

“RAAARGH! I’ll destroy the monster and protect the realm!” another yelled back. 

Before she could move, a pillow whizzed toward her face at full speed. Wonyoung yelped and ducked with surprising reflex. It slammed into the wall behind her, raining down feathery stuffing. 

She blinked. What on earth… 

Then — two children emerged like tiny, well-dressed warriors from the hallway battlefield. 

One was a girl with long, tangled hair tied into haphazard twin braids, wearing a unicorn hoodie and a sparkly tutu. She had a toy shield taped to one arm and glitter on her face like war paint.

Beside her was a boy, eyes blazing with mischief and an oversized lion plushie strapped to his back like a warrior cape. 

Both pointed their plastic swords at her. 

“INTRUDER!” the girl declared, stepping forward like a general. 

“Thief of the kingdom!” the boy added, brandishing a bent plastic sword. “She’s come to steal our treasure!” 

Wonyoung froze — half horrified, half fascinated. These are the twins?! 

But instinct kicked in before her fear did. 

She bent quickly, snatched the bunny pillow at her feet, and held it in front of her chest like a shield. 

“I come in peace!” she declared, straightening her posture with dramatic flair. “I’m here to save the kingdom from — uh — evil spinach overlords!” 

The twins paused, swords still raised. 

“I hate spinach!” the girl said suspiciously. “You’re too clean to be a warrior!” 

Wonyoung narrowed her eyes, crouched behind the pillow, and threw back, “I fought ten spinach beasts this morning alone! And I can prove it!” 

She turned dramatically, rolling behind the couch and dodging another pillow missile as the twins screamed in delight. 

“AFTER HER!” they shouted. 

With a laugh she didn’t know she had in her, Wonyoung bolted through the penthouse, darting between designer furniture, laughing breathlessly as the twins chased her down, swinging their swords and yelling spells and battle cries. She let herself get cornered near the grand piano, raising her “shield” just in time. 

“I surrender!” she gasped. “But only if you let me cook peace chicken nuggets for the royal feast!” 

The twins halted, panting, their toy swords now lowered. 

“Chicken nuggets?” the girl said slowly. “With sauce?”

“And a banana muffin!” Wonyoung promised. “And no green things. Pinky swear.”  

They stared at her. 

Then the boy grinned. “You may live... for now.” 

“Her Majesty awaits,” the girl added with her own flair, lifting her chin proudly. 

Wonyoung, catching on, straightened her posture and bowed slightly. “Then please — lead the way.” 

Before she could take another step, the girl produced a long silky ribbon, stolen from who-knows-where, and with the boy’s help, the twins wrapped it loosely around Wonyoung’s hand like some ceremonial chain. It wasn’t tied — more like looped in spirals with the reverence of kids pretending to bind a captured spy or fairy intruder. 

“Now march!” the girl said, her bare feet padding confidently across the wood floors. “To the royal chamber!” 

Wonyoung bit back a laugh and let herself be escorted down the hall, past elegant wall sconces and rich floral arrangements that looked way too expensive to be in a house with children this wild. The door they stopped at was deep mahogany, heavy-looking, slightly ajar. 

The boy puffed his cheeks and kicked it open with flair. “Your Majesty!” he called out proudly. 

The room was an elegant, high-ceilinged office-slash-library, lined with dark wood shelves, a glass wall overlooking the city lights beyond, and a modern white desk near the center — where An Yujin stood, her back partially turned, a phone pressed to her ear, clearly talking to someone. 

She turned slightly at the intrusion and then froze. 

Her eyes widened. 

In front of her stood her two children, proudly holding toy weapons, flanking a ribbon-wrapped Wonyoung, who looked half-embarrassed, half-amused, standing with her hands politely folded. 

“Mommy, we brought you the intruder!” Hyunseo announced with a beaming smile. “She played with us!” 

“And she’s gonna cook chicken nuggets for us!” Jinu chimed in excitedly. “Can we keep her?” 

Yujin blinked, lips parting as if trying to process what she was seeing. “I’ll call you back,” she said calmly into the phone before hanging up. She slowly turned to face them fully, one brow arching ever so slightly as her gaze fell on Wonyoung. 

“You’re… early,” she said. 

Wonyoung smiled as gracefully as one could when draped in ribbon. “Better early than late?” 

Yujin crossed her arms. “And clearly, my twins are giving you their usual royal treatment.” 

Wonyoung shrugged lightly. “They’ve been very generous. I was spared execution, after all.” 

A faint smirk pulled at Yujin’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She turned her attention to the kids. “Hyunseo, Jinu. Go clean up. Now.” 

“Yes, Mommy!” they chirped in unison before scurrying away like gremlins on a mission, Jinu dragging his sword and Hyunseo yelling something about putting the bunny commander back on the throne. 

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Wonyoung and Yujin alone. 

Wonyoung exhaled and gently removed the ribbon, unwinding it and setting it neatly on a nearby armchair. “Well… that was a warm welcome.” 

Yujin leaned against the desk again, arms crossed, watching her. “I’ll admit, you handled them better than most adults do.” 

“I used to run food activities for preschoolers during summer,” Wonyoung replied with a sheepish grin. “This was nothing compared to thirty toddlers armed with jelly-covered hands.” 

Yujin chuckled under her breath, almost silently, before her tone shifted back to business. “Still. Apologies. They can be... intense.” 

“I don’t mind,” Wonyoung said honestly, smoothing her dress. “Kids are honest. Wild, yes, but honest.” 

Yujin tilted her head slightly. “So chicken nuggets?” 

“Healthy ones,” Wonyoung replied without missing a beat. “I brought some tofu and I will bake them instead of frying.” 

Something flickered in Yujin’s eyes — interest, if not admiration. “You will sneak in tofu?” 

“Kids don’t notice,” Wonyoung added with a conspiratorial smile. “And I brought muffins.” 

Yujin blinked. “Muffins?” 

Wonyoung opened the small tote she’d brought, carefully lifting out a cloth-wrapped container. “Banana muffins. Whole wheat, no refined sugar. Just honey and mashed banana. Walnuts, too — unless there’s an allergy?” 

Yujin didn’t answer right away. She walked slowly toward the table and peered down at the baked goods, then at Wonyoung, as if assessing her all over again. 

“No allergies,” she said finally. “You didn’t have to bake.” 

“I know,” Wonyoung replied. “But I thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring a little peace offering to the kingdom.” 

That made Yujin pause. A small twitch of her lips again — not quite a smile, but close. 

“You’re bold,” she murmured, lifting one of the muffins to inspect it. 

“I’ve been told,” Wonyoung said softly. 

Yujin raised her eyes. “And desperate?” 

Wonyoung met her gaze. “Determined.” 

A beat of silence passed. The city lights twinkled through the glass behind Yujin, casting a faint glow between them. 

Finally, Yujin nodded toward the kitchen. “Then show me. Dinner’s in an hour.” 

Wonyoung grinned. “Yes, Miss An.”

Yujin walked over to the dining counter, where a tablet rested beside her phone. With a swipe, she opened her twins’ daily schedule and held it out for Wonyoung to see. 

“Let’s get a few things out of the way,” Yujin began, tone brisk. “The twins have school from 8:30 to 2:30, followed by tutoring from 3 to 4 every weekday. I have them enrolled in rotating extracurriculars — music class on Monday, Japanese on Thursday.” 

Wonyoung nodded quickly, trying to absorb everything as her eyes scanned the screen. Yujin noticed the way she leaned in attentively. 

“They come home starving, obviously,” Yujin added with a faint sigh, “and I want them eating real food. No takeout unless it’s from the approved list of restaurants.” 

“I understand,” Wonyoung replied. “I can plan weekly menus. Something balanced, but still fun.” 

“Good.” Yujin opened a drawer in the kitchen island and pulled out a gold card, placing it lightly on the marble counter. “This is a grocery card under the household account. Just send receipts to Hanni.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened as she carefully accepted it. “Thank you, I— wow.” 

“You’ll be living in, of course,” Yujin continued, gesturing toward the hall behind the dining area. “The housekeeper comes in the mornings when the twins are in school. You only need to look after the twins — prepare meals, tend to them, and make sure they don’t kill each other or anyone.” 

Wonyoung let out a light laugh, but quickly made a straight face, realizing Yujin wasn’t joking. “Understood.” 

“This way,” Yujin said, turning down the hallway. Her heels echoed lightly against the polished floor as she led Wonyoung to the guest wing. She stopped in front of a door and opened it. 

Wonyoung stepped inside — and her breath caught. 

The room was huge. Sunlight spilled through large arched windows dressed in linen curtains. The bed was full-sized, dressed in plush white duvets. The pale oak floors gleamed, and there was even a cozy reading nook by the corner with a floor lamp and armchair. A small dresser, a desk, a soft rug. Everything so... serene. 

But what stunned her most was the ensuite bathroom, with frosted glass, marble sink, and fluffy towels neatly arranged on the counter. 

“I— this is for me?” Wonyoung asked, unable to hide the awe in her voice. 

Yujin glanced around, casually. “Of course. You’ll need your own space.” 

“This is nicer than apartment,” she whispered without thinking. 

“I would hope so,” Yujin replied dryly, lips twitching. “You’ll also be off duty Sundays unless otherwise needed.” 

Wonyoung turned to her quickly. “I was actually hoping to study culinary on weekends… if that's alright.” 

That made Yujin pause mid-step in the doorway. 

She turned her head slightly, interest flickering in her expression. “You still want to study culinary?” 

Wonyoung nodded. “Yes. I’ve been saving up. I haven’t decided where to apply yet, but… I’m hoping to enroll once I settle into this job, the salary is more than enough to cover it.” 

Yujin was quiet for a moment. Then she gave a short nod. “That’s good.” 

There was a beat of silence before she added, more softly, “If you need recommendations… I know a few places. Some instructors too.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes lit up. “Really? That would mean so much to me.” 

“It’s not a promise,” Yujin said quickly, as if catching herself from being too generous. “But I’ll send you a list if you are doing your job well with the twins.”

 “Thank you, Ms. An. Really.” 

“And,” Yujin added, now all business again, “on weekends when you do need to stay with the twins during your day-offs, you’ll be paid overtime. That includes sleepovers, school events, or emergencies.” 

Wonyoung nodded. “Understood.” 

Yujin checked her watch, her tone shifting. “Dinner’s in thirty. I’ll leave you to prepare. That’s the final test of this interview.” 

She turned and left the room. 

Wonyoung stood there for a second longer, slowly lowering herself onto the edge of the bed, running her hand across the soft duvet. 

This job… is insane. 

She looked around the room again — the calm lighting, the soft furnishings, her own bathroom — and almost laughed in disbelief. No wonder it pays so much. But then… why does no one stay? 

She thought of the gum incident. Of the flying plushies and swords. Of the twin’s chaotic war cries and glitter-covered faces. 

Then she thought of how they didn’t hesitate to play with her. 

A soft smile curved on her lips. 

They’re not the problem, she thought. They’re just kids. 

I can do this. 

But deep down, she also knew… it wasn’t just the kids she was nervous about. 

It was the woman in the red blazer. 

The one who’d smiled when she tasted her food — and then told her she was wasting her time. 

The one she would now work for. 

Live with. 

Wonyoung took a deep breath, straightened her back, and stood up to unpack the foods she brought.

*** 

The air in the penthouse kitchen buzzed faintly with anticipation — or maybe that was just Wonyoung’s nerves. 

She stepped into the spacious, almost clinical kitchen, the kind that looked like it belonged in a designer magazine — all white countertops, gleaming chrome appliances, glass jars lined up like soldiers. Everything was pristine. Unused. Silent. 

Not for long. 

At the long marble dining table, two six-year-olds sat like miniature celebrity judges, backs straight, forks and spoons already in hand, waiting. 

Hyunseo had her arms crossed like she meant business, eyes squinting like she was inspecting the kitchen crew of a failing restaurant. Jinu leaned forward with dramatic seriousness, one brow raised, like he’d seen on TV. 

Wonyoung tried not to laugh. 

And yet... her palms were sweating. 

It was ridiculous. These were six-year-olds. Tiny, adorable six-year-olds in matching pajama sets. But something about the way they stared at her made her remember Project Mise — the long white tables, the spotlight, the judges’ clipped voices, Yujin’s eyes watching her from that balcony. 

Deja vu, she thought. 

Except this time, it was in a penthouse. And her apron was pale pink. 

“Good luck, Miss Nanny!” Jinu announced dramatically, adjusting his seat. 

“Don’t mess up,” Hyunseo added, deadpan. 

Before Wonyoung could reply. She turned and there was Yujin, stepping into the kitchen with her usual quiet authority, the red of her suit like a slash of fire against the silver and white. 

“There’s tofu in the bottom drawer of the fridge,” Yujin said, walking past her and opening the drawer herself. She pulled it out and set it on the counter with a soft thud. “We stock everything. If you need something specific, just buy them.” 

“Thank you,” Wonyoung said quickly, already washing her hands and pulling ingredients from the fridge. 

Yujin didn’t leave. Instead, she leaned her back against the counter, arms folded, watching. 

“There’s a common mistake with vegan food,” Yujin said casually, eyeing Wonyoung. “People assume it’s healthier just because there’s no meat. But many of them are loaded with sodium, preservatives, MSG — worse than the real thing.” 

“I know,” Wonyoung replied, slicing tofu with focused precision. “I don’t like those either. I’d rather make everything myself.” 

Yujin hummed. She doesn’t know if it was agreement or disagreement. 

The tofu went into a mixing bowl. Wonyoung added finely ground chicken breast, garlic, a dash of soy sauce, a sprinkle of ground flaxseed — her secret weapon for texture. Her hands moved fast but still gentle, forming the small nuggets carefully. 

“I thought you were making tofu nuggets,” Yujin commented, arching a brow. 

“I said chicken nuggets,” Wonyoung replied, not missing a beat. “So there should be chicken. I’m not going to lie to the kids. Just… stretch the flavor a little.” 

That made Yujin smirk, the tiniest twitch of amusement breaking through her calm exterior.

Wonyoung picked up a tray and began placing the nuggets into the air fryer, spacing them out.

“I used to make these for a preschool once,” she said. “Most of the kids didn’t even know there was tofu in them. The ones who did… didn’t care, as long as there was a dip.”

 Yujin chuckled. “My twins are a little harder to fool.” 

“We’ll see,” Wonyoung replied, closing the air fryer and setting the timer. 

She wiped her hands, turned around, and found Yujin still watching her. 

Not coldly. Not harshly. Just... watching. 

The silence stretched for a beat before Yujin nodded once. “You’re efficient.” 

“I try,” Wonyoung replied. “It’s easier when your kitchen is a dream come true.” 

Yujin looked around at the sleek setup and shrugged, almost as if saying she hardly noticed anymore. “It’s just a kitchen.” 

Wonyoung didn’t reply, but in her head, she thought: It’s not just anything to me. 

The air fryer dinged its final note like a soft kitchen bell. The golden brown nuggets sat perfectly arranged on the ceramic plate, surrounded by little rice bears and flower-cut carrots, just the way Wonyoung planned. She wiped her hands clean, steadied her nerves, and turned to Yujin. 

“I’ll bring it out,” she said, carefully lifting the plates. 

Yujin gave a nod and moved ahead, pushing open the wide double doors that separated the kitchen from the formal dining room. 

The twins were already seated — Jinu bouncing slightly in his seat, Hyunseo straight-backed and holding her spoon like a tiny princess. Their legs swung back and forth under the table. 

As soon as Wonyoung entered with the food, both twins perked up. 

“Whoa!” Jinu gasped, leaning over the table. “It looks like a bento from the cartoons!” 

“It’s rice bears,” Hyunseo noted with an approving nod, adjusting her pink headband. “With crunchies!” 

“They’re nuggets,” Jinu whispered like it was a secret. “CHICKEN nuggets!” 

Wonyoung smiled as she set the plate down in front of them, followed by small portions of ketchup she shaped like hearts. 

Jinu was alternating between stuffing rice and nugget pieces into his mouth, while Hyunseo examined every bite like she was judging a cooking competition, her toddler voice narrating her findings. 

“This one is crunchy. But soft inside. That’s good,” she mumbled through her little teeth. 

“I like this rice guy,” Jinu added. “He looks scared but tastes nice.” 

Yujin laughed softly, shaking her head. “Eat slower, you two. You’ll choke.” 

“I’m not choking,” Jinu insisted with a mouthful. 

Wonyoung held her breath for one final judge. 

Yujin picked up a piece herself and tasted it. Her gaze flicked up to Wonyoung. 

Then, with the same expressionless voice she used in board meetings, she said: 

“Not bad.” 

But Wonyoung saw it — the barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

And somehow, that was worth more than any star. 

After the main course, Wonyoung stood and brought out her banana walnut muffins in a little paper box she’d brought with her, still warm from the afternoon bake. 

Hyunseo gasped. “Muffins!” 

“I like muffins,” Jinu declared. 

“Me first!” Hyunseo said, already reaching. 

Wonyoung handed each of them one and then offered the last to Yujin, who studied it for a moment before accepting. 

Hyunseo took a big bite, the banana scent clinging to the air. 

“…It’s really good,” she murmured, cheeks puffed. 

“Can we keep her?” Jinu asked out of nowhere, turning to his mom. “Mommy, she cooks good. Like really good.” 

Yujin laughed — a soft, surprised sound. “Brush your teeth first. We’ll see.” 

The twins giggled and quickly started wrapping up, grabbing their plates and cups with messy grace. As they stood, Hyunseo turned to Wonyoung. 

“Miss Nanny, what’s your name again?” 

“Wonyoung,” she said, still smiling. “Jang Wonyoung.” 

Jinu pointed at her with both fingers like he’d solved a riddle. “See you tomorrow, Wonyoung noona!” 

“I want pancakes for breakfast!” Hyunseo shouted as she ran down the hallway. 

Yujin laughed again, watching them go with a hand brushing her temple. 

“Sorry about that,” she muttered. 

“They’re wonderful,” Wonyoung replied honestly. “And funny.” 

Yujin glanced over at her, then at the empty table. 

“We’ll talk over dinner,” she said, rising from her seat and lifting her wine glass. 

Wonyoung blinked. “Us?” 

Yujin paused, amused. “Yes, us. Unless you’re too full from the rice bear buffet.” 

Wonyoung quickly shook her head. “No, no— I’m not.” 

But in her head, she was screaming. 

Dinner. With An Yujin. Alone? 

Her hands fumbled slightly as she lifted her own glass, eyes following the confident curve of Yujin’s back as she walked toward the living area, the city lights gleaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

***

The doorbell rang, a soft but clear chime echoing through the sleek penthouse. Wonyoung, ever eager to be helpful, quickly stood from her seat, brushing her palms on her skirt. 

"I’ll get it," she said with a small smile, already walking toward the door. 

Yujin didn’t protest, only watched her go with a flicker of amusement in her eyes. 

At the front entrance, Wonyoung opened the door to see a sharply dressed man holding two large, elegant takeout bags — fancy enough to be from one of those upscale restaurants where everything was probably plated like art. She bowed politely, took the bags with a soft ‘thank you,’ and carefully made her way back toward the dining area, trying not to let the warm scent of soy garlic glaze and roasted sesame distract her. 

Yujin was already unfolding napkins at the table when Wonyoung set the bags down and began unpacking the containers, Yujin casually explained, “I ordered ahead. Thought it would be a long day. Didn’t want you to cook again tonight.” 

Wonyoung blinked, momentarily surprised, then softened. 

“That’s thoughtful,” she said genuinely. “Thank you.” She opened a box and took a whiff — Korean short ribs, perfectly marinated. “But… you don’t have to worry about that, really. I’ll never get tired of cooking. Actually, I’d love to cook for you.” 

Yujin raised a brow, clearly entertained. “Really.” 

Wonyoung glanced up shyly from unboxing the dishes. “Really,” she affirmed. “Even if you end up hating my food, I’ll just study your taste until I get it right.” 

The corners of Yujin’s mouth curved into a subtle smile — wry, but warmer than before. “That sounds suspiciously like flirting.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened, just slightly, caught off guard. But she recovered with a soft laugh. “I meant that as a job commitment.” 

Yujin hummed, amused. “Right.” 

They set the food down on the table, the glossy surfaces of lacquered rice bowls and gold-trimmed chopsticks catching the warm lights overhead. It felt strangely domestic, the quiet clinks of plates and light shuffle of steps as they both sat down again — across from each other this time. 

As they started to eat, Yujin glanced up over her chopsticks and said, “Anything you’d like to ask about the job?” 

Wonyoung thought for a moment, then offered a cautious smile. “Are the twins always like that?” 

Yujin gave a short, knowing laugh. “Always. From the moment they open their eyes to the moment they crash. And if they’ve had too much sugar…” She trailed off meaningfully. 

Wonyoung nodded quickly. “So tone down the sweets.” 

“Yes. Especially for Jinu. He has too much energy to burn already.” 

Wonyoung chewed thoughtfully, then asked, “Do they do any hobbies? Or after-school activities? Aside from the tutors.”

 Yujin took a sip of her drink before answering. “Jinu plays soccer. Wants to be a stiker, even though he’s scared of the ball half the time.” 

Wonyoung giggled at the image, imagining the little boy shouting dramatic war cries like earlier. 

“Hyunseo plays piano,” Yujin added. “That’s the one thing they don’t do together. I thought separating their interests would help them develop some independence. It worked, sort of.” 

Wonyoung nodded again, mentally taking notes. 

“They’re both smart. Quick. A little spoiled,” Yujin added with a tired exhale. “But I try.” 

“You’re doing a good job,” Wonyoung said softly. 

Yujin looked at her. There was a moment of quiet, just chopsticks pausing between bites. “You don’t know me well enough to say that,” she said, not unkindly. More like a statement of fact. 

“Maybe not,” Wonyoung replied. “But I’ve met your kids. They’re loud. And sweet. And happy. That says something.” 

Another pause. Yujin looked at her for just a beat too long, before turning back to her plate. 

“They liked your nuggets,” she said finally. 

As Wonyoung took another quiet sip of water, a question itched at the back of her throat. 

She had heard rumors. Everyone had. That An Yujin had been married once — to either a Michelin-starred chef or some powerful businessman who owned vineyards in Europe. No one really knew for sure. There were no articles, no interviews, and no gossip that stuck. It was all whispers behind expensive wine glasses and culinary gossip boards. But now that Wonyoung would be living here, raising the twins, part of her felt she ought to know. For practical reasons, of course. What if their father came around? What if he was part of their schedule? What if there were co-parenting rules? 

She thought maybe she’d see a family photo in one of the rooms, or a name scribbled in a notebook when cleaning up toys. But sitting across Yujin now, in this soft-lit dining space, the words itched like spice on her tongue. It’s better to ask than to snoop around.

She cleared her throat lightly, a bit hesitant. 

“Um… Miss Yujin,” she began softly, eyes flickering toward Yujin then down to her lap. “I… I was just wondering. Will the twins’ father be around?” 

For a second, silence stretched. Wonyoung looked up. 

Yujin had gone still, the subtle tension unmistakable. 

Her gaze lowered to her plate. Her brows furrowed, barely, but her jaw clenched — just for a breath. But Wonyoung caught it. 

Her heart sank immediately. “Ah—sorry,” she said quickly, sitting straighter. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—” 

Yujin shook her head once, not sharply, but enough to stop her. She looked up and said, voice even and composed, “Their father isn’t around.” Then, after a pause, “He won’t be, at the moment.” 

She didn’t elaborate. And Wonyoung, already wincing internally, knew not to press. It wasn’t cold, exactly. But it was a line. And she had crossed it. 

Yujin looked at her for a moment longer — something she can’t quite decipher and then the tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly. 

“You’re hired,” Yujin said then, as casually as if she were stating the time. “You can move in as soon as possible.” 

Wonyoung blinked. Her lips parted in surprise. Then, sheepishly, she smiled. “Actually… my luggage is outside. Just in the hallway.” 

There was a beat of silence. Yujin’s brows rose — and then she let out a quiet chuckle. It was soft, unexpected, and full of something else entirely. Maybe amusement?

“You came prepared,” she said. 

Wonyoung flushed slightly but nodded. “I had a feeling.” 

“Well,” Yujin stood then, brushing invisible lint from her blouse. “I’ll leave you to settle in, then. First day officially starts tomorrow.” 

With that, she walked out, heels clicking softly on the polished floors, and disappeared around the corner. 

Wonyoung exhaled, alone now in the dining area, her heart still somewhere between a flutter and a tripwire. She sat there a moment longer, then stood to go retrieve her luggage. 

Tomorrow, her new life would begin. 

***

Wonyoung was still adjusting to the luxury around her. The room was soft and warm in the light, filled with elegant but simple furniture, pristine linens, and scents of expensive wood and lavender. She had never had a space like this before — large, peaceful, with her own bathroom and a window that looked out to the city skyline twinkling like constellations. 

She was halfway through unpacking her suitcase, now strewn open on the bed. Most of her clothes had already been hung or folded into the wardrobe. What was left — unfortunately — was the final batch: her sleepwear and undergarments. She had just laid out a couple of folded panties and a pale pink lace bra on the bed to organize them before putting them away. 

Just as she reached to lay out her remaining pajamas and undergarments on the bed for tomorrow, a gentle knock startled her. 

Before she could respond, the door creaked open. 

“Wonyoung?” Yujin’s voice floated in gently, and then her figure appeared in the doorway. 

An Yujin stood at the doorway, dressed in a silk nightdress that shimmered under the hallway light. The fabric was an elegant champagne gold, draping effortlessly over her figure. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands falling around her face, and she looked so effortlessly poised it made Wonyoung feel underdressed in her oversized tee and slippers. 

“Just checking in,” Yujin said smoothly, voice a little husky from winding down for the night. “Wanted to see if you’re settling in fine — or if there’s anything you need.” 

“Ah—” Wonyoung began, brushing her hair behind her ear quickly. “Yes! I’m good, thank you. The room’s really beautiful, I was just—” 

Yujin’s eyes drifted behind her, to the bed. 

And stopped. 

There, laid out like a clothing crime scene, were Wonyoung’s most embarrassing assortment of undergarments. A lacey pink bra. A pastel blue one with tiny stars. A couple of folded underwear, one with a cartoon peach print. All of them in plain, humiliating view. 

Wonyoung turned red so fast it felt like her ears were on fire. 

“Oh my god—” she blurted out, whirling around to snatch the pillow off the bed and cover everything like she was hiding contraband. “You’re not supposed to see that!” 

Yujin blinked, stunned for a moment. Her posture straightened, clearly startled, but she quickly turned her head and raised a hand in apology. “No— I should’ve waited. I knocked, but I didn’t mean to barge in—” 

“I didn’t know anyone would check on me this soon! I—I was just about to—” Wonyoung’s words collided in her mouth as she frantically shoved the rest of her underwear back into her suitcase. “This looks so unprofessional—I swear I was just— I mean, I always keep things neat, and I didn’t expect anyone to—!” 

Yujin, now turned halfway away from the scene, looked vaguely horrified for a different reason. “God, I’m the one intruding. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to— You just got here and I’m already walking into your room like—” 

“No, no! You’re my employer — of course you can come in! I just didn’t think— I should’ve been quicker, or closed the door, or—” Wonyoung was still red in the face, now pressing the suitcase shut as if it would undo the last ten seconds. 

Yujin finally let out a soft, slightly awkward laugh, still half-turned away but glancing over her shoulder now that the danger had passed. “Well. I was just going to ask if you’re settling in okay… but now I feel like I owe you therapy.” 

Wonyoung, face burning, offered a weak laugh. “I’m okay. Thank you. Really. I’m okay. Just… not exactly how I imagined our first evening ending.” 

Yujin stepped back toward the hallway, clearing her throat. “Right. Then I’ll let you finish unpacking. No more surprise inspections tonight, I promise.” 

Wonyoung could only manage a breathless nod. “Goodnight, Miss An…” 

Yujin paused in the doorway, just before leaving. “Wonyoung.” 

“…Yes?” 

Yujin gave her a faint smirk. “Cute pajamas.” 

And with that, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving Wonyoung standing frozen in place, her brain slowly melting from secondhand embarrassment. 

“…Oh my god.” 

 

Chapter 3: the first shift

The twins had just left for their tutoring session, bouncing out the door with their oversized backpacks and too much energy for a Thursday afternoon. Wonyoung had helped Hyunseo find her piano book, brushed Jinu’s cowlick into submission, and waved them off as Bong-san, the family’s long-time driver, opened the car door with his usual gentle smile and raspy, grandfatherly voice: “See you later, Miss Jang.” 

Now, Wonyoung stood alone in the twins’ shared bedroom, sunlight spilling in through the tall windows and casting soft shadows across the cloud-themed rug. It still smelled faintly of kid shampoo and crayon wax. 

She crouched by Hyunseo’s bed, picking up a fallen plush unicorn and tucking it beside the pillow. Then she moved to Jinu’s side, folding his little hoodie and stacking it neatly on the chair. 

Her eyes wandered, as they sometimes did, taking in the framed drawings taped to the wall—stick-figure families with unreasonably large heads and lots of hearts. She smiled. 

Then something caught her attention. 

Above the bookshelf, half-hidden behind a messy pile of storybooks and a plastic dinosaur wearing a tiara, was a photo frame. Polished silver. Ornate. Definitely not drawn with crayons. 

Wonyoung reached up, gently pulled it forward, and froze. 

It was a family portrait. 

Recent, from the looks of it. The twins looked exactly as they did now — Jinu with his lopsided grin and Hyunseo clutching a glittery wand. Yujin stood between them, serene and effortlessly beautiful in a tailored cream blouse. Her arms around both children. But it was the man beside her that made Wonyoung inhale sharply. 

Chef Choi. 

Her heart skipped. 

No way. 

The bad boy of the culinary world. The storm of kitchen shows and ego. The man who’d once flamed out on live television after losing the grand Culinary Wars finale to some fresh-faced nobody — and made headlines for months afterward. There were memes. Viral edits. Then… silence. 

So this is why he vanished? 

Wonyoung blinked, her fingers still lightly brushing the edge of the frame. Chef Choi — that Chef Choi — was married to Yujin? 

It began to click together like puzzle pieces. The rumors about Yujin’s mysterious husband. The quiet media blackout. The way she’d said, almost too casually, that “the twins’ father won’t be around.” And now this. 

Her mind spun. Everyone in the culinary world knew who Chef Choi Yeonjun was. His face was splashed across old covers of Taste & Heat magazine. His Instagram was once a chaotic blend of wagyu steak closeups, brooding selfies, and passive-aggressive captions. 

And some of his most famous restaurants… weren’t they under An Global Foods? 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. Wait. Does that mean Yujin’s family owns— 

She took a breath, stepping back from the shelf. 

Now she was more confused than ever. If they were still together, wouldn’t Chef Choi be around? And if they weren’t… why was the photo still here? She remembered how carefully Jinu tucked that stuffed rabbit into bed the other night. How Hyunseo clutched a wrinkled photo one afternoon when she thought no one was looking. 

Wonyoung bit her lip. Divorced? Separated? Temporarily?

Maybe that was why Yujin had shut down so quickly when she asked the other night. Maybe the media silence wasn’t just privacy — it was power. Bought silence. 

Wonyoung placed the photo frame gently back in its place, now feeling like she had touched something she shouldn’t have. 

She straightened the books, smoothed the pillow again, and walked out of the twins’ room. 

***

It had only been a few days, but already Wonyoung had found her rhythm in the An household. The twins, Hyunseo and Jinu, were slowly growing attached in their own ways — Hyunseo by leaving little notes under her plate ("I like your banana muffin, it is fluffy"), and Jinu by proudly declaring in the car that her food was “better than cafeteria junk.” Bong-san, the elderly driver, often chuckled at their praises, patting Wonyoung on the shoulder and telling her, "You’re making this house feel like a real home again." 

The twins’ lunchboxes had even become a mild sensation at school. That Friday afternoon, Hyunseo came running into the kitchen breathless, telling Wonyoung that her teacher asked who cooked the quinoa nuggets. Jinu added that some of his classmates tried to trade him cookies for one of his sesame-onigiri rolls. Wonyoung laughed, pleased, heart warmed by their excitement. 

That weekend, after her Saturday cooking class — an airy, clean  kitchen studio where she practiced soufflés and sugar balance —Wonyoung met up with Hanni at a quiet café tucked behind an art bookstore. They slid into a corner booth, iced americanos between them. 

Hanni sipped her drink and leaned in. “So, domestic goddess yet?” 

Wonyoung smiled. “I think I’m getting there. The twins eat everything I make, which is terrifying. I think I set the bar too high on my first day.” 

“You did make chicken nuggets with tofu that was actually good enough for the twins. That's a flex.” 

“I also saw something.” Wonyoung’s voice lowered a bit, and her hands wrapped around her glass. “In the twins’ room.” 

Hanni raised an eyebrow. “You snooping already?” 

Wonyoung immediately held up her hands. “No, I was literally putting away their scattered LEGO and stuffed toys. I can’t not look around when they toss everything. It’s like being a maid, tutor, and zookeeper in one.” 

“Still,” Hanni teased, eyes narrowing as she toyed with her straw, “You’re suspiciously fast.” 

“I swear,” Wonyoung huffed with a soft laugh, then leaned in. “But it was a photo. Of Yujin and the twins. And Chef Choi. That Chef Choi.” 

Hanni’s smirk faded. “Ah.” 

“You knew, right? You knew she married him?” 

Hanni sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if summoning patience. “Technically? Yeah. But it's not really something we... bring up.” 

“I mean, he's a public figure. Michelin star, celebrity chef, owned a few restaurants under An Group, right? I just — it's weird. I haven’t heard anything about him since that culinary war show he stormed off from last year.” 

“You and the rest of the country.” Hanni gave a tight smile. “After he lost to that Gen Z prodigy? It got ugly.” 

“So… are they divorced?” 

Hanni hesitated. She stared into her coffee as if hoping for a different question. “Look, Yujin’s still my boss. And technically this stuff is confidential.” 

“I get that,” Wonyoung said quickly, a little too eager. “I’m not trying to be nosy. It’s just — when I asked Yujin, she said the twins’ father won’t be around at the moment. That could mean anything. And I’ll be in charge of the kids most of the time. Shouldn’t I at least know the basics?” 

Hanni sighed. She knew Wonyoung was right. And eventually, Wonyoung would learn the truth one way or another. 

“They’re... married on paper,” Hanni finally said, slowly. “But separated. Living completely separate lives.” 

Wonyoung frowned. “So not legally divorced?” 

“They’re going through it now. Quietly. Behind the scenes. Media’s silent cause, well, you know, money. The An family has it. And Yeonjun? He’s not the easiest guy to cut loose. Especially when there’s a reputation and image on the line.” 

Wonyoung digested the information slowly, stirring her coffee. “Is it messy?”

 “Very.” 

She nodded. “Thanks for telling me. Even just that much. I won’t ask more.” 

“You’ll find out more anyway,” Hanni said with a smirk, standing to grab napkins. “A house talks louder than any of us ever could.” 

***

That late morning, Wonyoung stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse just as the scent of sunscreen and children’s shampoo floated faintly through the air. The twins were waiting like eager puppies near the shoe rack, and the moment they saw her, they both ran straight for her. 

“Wonyoung unnie!” Hyunseo squealed, arms flapping like a penguin in excitement. 

“Wonyoung noona!” Jinu echoed, clutching a small soccer ball under his arm. 

Wonyoung laughed and crouched to greet them, giving each a quick pat on the head. “You guys are all dressed up,” she noted, taking in their matching sun hats, Velcro sandals, and little backpacks that jangled with snacks and juice boxes. “Where are you going?” 

“To the park!” Hyunseo declared proudly.

Before Wonyoung could reply, Jinu tugged on her hand again and asked, eyes wide, “Can you come with us, noona? Please?” 

From the hallway, Yujin appeared, elegant even in casual linen and flats, slinging a light tote bag over her shoulder. Her gaze met Wonyoung’s, eyebrows lifted slightly. “It’s your day off today,” she said gently, “You don’t have to come, Wonyoung. You just got back. Take some time for yourself.” 

Wonyoung opened her mouth to reply, but Hyunseo beat her to it. 

“Day off is for fun day!” she insisted with a stomp of her tiny foot, as if she were making a legal argument in the court of childhood. “You can have fun with us.” 

The earnestness in her voice was impossible to ignore. Jinu kept tugging her hand, eyes so hopeful. And for a moment, Wonyoung felt something flicker in her chest — not obligation. Maybe it was the way they saw her. Like they are welcoming her more.

 She smiled, brushing Jinu’s hair back. “Well… if fun is what’s expected of me on my day off, then how could I say no?” 

“Yay!” both twins shouted, bouncing in place. 

Yujin exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re too nice to them,” she murmured, but there was something warm in her gaze as she looked at Wonyoung. “Alright then, let’s get going.” 

But just as Yujin reached for her keys, her phone buzzed on the console. She glanced at it — once, twice — and her expression immediately shifted. She pressed the call button and turned slightly away, murmuring into the phone. A few seconds in, her voice dropped lower, taut with apology and urgency. 

The twins went quiet. 

Wonyoung glanced down at them and saw it clearly — how their shoulders fell, how Jinu clutched the soccer ball tighter, how Hyunseo’s bottom lip pushed out. 

Yujin ended the call and turned around, already crouching in front of her kids. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, brushing Hyunseo’s shoulder. “I have an emergency meeting. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?” 

“You always say that…” Hyunseo whispered, her voice soft but piercing. Not angry — just... tired. 

Yujin flinched, only barely. 

“I know,” she said, brushing hair behind Hyunseo’s ear. “But this one’s important.” 

Wonyoung watched them, her heart tugged in different directions. There was a kind of weariness in Yujin’s eyes — like she was trying to do everything and failing in all the places that mattered most to her. 

She stepped forward. 

“Well, if Mommy can’t come,” Wonyoung said lightly, “then that means we get to eat whatever we want.” 

Hyunseo blinked up at her. “Really?” 

“Popsicles before lunch,” Wonyoung added, conspiratorially. “And if we see a cotton candy stand... I’ll pretend not to see it, but you can totally scream until I give in.” 

That earned a snort from Jinu. 

Yujin stood, exhaling. Her expression softened just a little as she looked at Wonyoung — like she was grateful without knowing how to say it aloud. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “Bong-san will drive you.” 

Wonyoung nodded. “We’ll have a good time.” 

“I know,” Yujin said, quiet now. “Thank you.” 

As they left, Hyunseo grabbed Wonyoung’s hand, and Jinu raced ahead to press the elevator button with a determined slap. The penthouse door closed behind them, and the moment was gone — but it lingered still in Wonyoung’s chest. That brief look in Yujin’s eyes. 

***

The sun was just warm enough to coax laughter from every corner of the park, as children chased after kites and bubbles. Wonyoung sat on a wooden bench under the shade of a large tree, her canvas tote beside her, a bottle of sunscreen peeking out the top. 

A few feet away, Jinu sprinted across the grass like a boy on a mission, chasing a frisbee a kid from another group had tossed into their area. Hyunseo was near the sandpit, crouching like a tiny explorer, poking at rocks and pretending they were rare crystals. Both twins radiated energy and joy — pure, unfiltered childhood chaos. 

Wonyoung smiled softly, brushing her hair behind her ears, watching them. Her eyes darted between the two like a seasoned hawk, not missing a beat even as she leaned back for a breath of peace. 

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket. 

Yujin. 

She answered quickly. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” came Yujin’s voice — low, a little hushed, maybe from an office or in the middle of a meeting. “How’s everything going?” 

Wonyoung glanced back at the kids. Jinu was now trying to vault over a small bush, and Hyunseo had moved on to building a ‘fort’ of pebbles and leaves. 

“It’s... chaotic,” Wonyoung said with a quiet laugh. “But everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry, they’re having the time of their lives.” 

She could almost hear Yujin exhale on the other end. “Good. That’s good. I just — wanted to check in.” 

Wonyoung’s voice softened. “It’s no problem. Really. You take care of what you need to do. I’ve got this.” 

There was a beat of silence, and then Yujin murmured, “Thank you, Wonyoung.” 

Before Wonyoung could say more, Yujin cleared her throat. “I have to go back in. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Okay. Bye,” Wonyoung said, smiling, before ending the call and tucking the phone back into her pocket. 

A second later, Jinu came dashing back to her, cheeks flushed and sweaty, his little chest rising and falling quickly. “Water, noona,” he huffed. 

Wonyoung opened the cooler bag beside her and handed him a cold bottle, unscrewing the cap for him before crouching to dab at his neck and forehead with a hand towel. “You’re a little volcano,” she teased gently. 

Hyunseo came running too, her arms outstretched, plopping herself down dramatically beside Wonyoung. “Me toooo,” she whined. 

“Okay, okay,” Wonyoung chuckled, offering her a smaller water bottle. She reached into her bag again, pulled out a baby comb, and gently smoothed out Hyunseo’s sweat-damp hair. “Let’s make you look like a princess again.” 

Hyunseo sat quietly, letting Wonyoung braid her hair into a loose plait. The little girl leaned into her touch with a kind of quiet trust that made Wonyoung’s heart swell a little. 

After tying the braid off with a small elastic, Wonyoung bent down and retied Jinu’s sneaker, which had come undone during his many park adventures. 

“There,” she said with satisfaction. “All set to keep conquering the world.” 

The twins exchanged a glance before dashing off again, their laughter echoing through the park like bells in springtime. And Wonyoung sat back once more, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze following them with warmth. 

She never thought she would be in peace watching the twins full of movement. 

***

After hours of running, sliding, climbing, and laughing themselves breathless, the twins were finally winding down. The sun had dipped lower, as parents began gathering their children to head home. Wonyoung checked the time — still enough before sundown — but she knew the twins needed a change of clothes before they could go home. 

She ushered them gently into the public restroom, guiding Hyunseo into one stall while keeping an eye on Jinu in another. It was a bit chaotic, like trying to dress two puppies that wouldn’t stop moving. Jinu’s shirt got stuck halfway through his arms, and Hyunseo complained that her socks were itchy. Wonyoung knelt, patient, even humming a little as she helped straighten out their outfits. 

“There,” she said at last, wiping a bit of grass stain from Jinu’s cheek. “You’re both humans again.” 

“Are we princess and prince now?” Hyunseo asked, twirling in her clean little dress. 

“You’ve always been royalty,” Wonyoung smiled. 

Outside the restroom, as she packed the used clothes into a tote bag, the twins clung to either of her arms. 

“Noona!” Jinu said, tugging. “Can we eat outside? Please?” 

Hyunseo chimed in with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, unnie. I’m so hungry. So so so hungry.” 

Wonyoung paused, hesitating. She bit her lip, glancing up at the slowly dimming sky. “Shouldn’t we go home soon? Maybe Bong-san is already waiting in the car…” 

“But we’re really really craving,” Jinu whined, leaning his full weight into her side. 

“Yeah,” Hyunseo added, bouncing slightly. “Pizzaaa. And burger!” 

Wonyoung sighed, torn. Her eyes drifted between their little faces, flushed from play and glowing with hope. Can I really say no to that? she thought. It’s not like she wanted them to go hungry. But Yujin only knew they will be at the park… But besides, she was technically in charge. Right? 

“Pizza and burgers?” she repeated, arching a brow. “Is that even allowed?” 

“Yes,” Jinu said, his voice dramatic. “It’s been forever. Please, Wonyoung noona?” 

Wonyoung let out a long breath, playfully shaking her head. “Alright, alright. But if we’re doing this, we’re not getting the greasy fast food junk, okay? I’m finding somewhere decent. Gourmet burgers. Proper pizza. Something your mom would approve.” 

“Yay!!” the twins shouted in unison, jumping in place and almost knocking over her tote bag. 

“And you two are eating vegetables too,” she added sternly. 

“Okay!!” they both agreed a little too quickly. 

Wonyoung rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. The truth was, this — being out in the city with the twins, letting their little lives unfold around her — felt more rewarding than she ever imagined. She wasn’t just watching over them. She was also enjoying herself.

As she took each of their hands and led them down the sidewalk to look for a cozy restaurant, she told herself she'd text Yujin after dinner. For now, her job was to keep them fed, happy, and safe. 

And indulge in a slice of pizza too. 

***

The restaurant was cozy, softly lit with warm wooden furniture and hanging vines that gave it a slightly rustic charm. It was clearly family-friendly — there were kids at several other tables, loud chatter bouncing off the brick walls. But still, as Wonyoung sat across from the twins at a booth near the window, she couldn’t help the uneasy flutter in her chest. 

The plates in front of them were far from the healthy, balanced dinners she usually imagined. A thin crust pizza with some vegetables sat sliced on a shared plate, and two burgers — albeit with lettuce, tomato, and even grilled eggplant on the side — were half-eaten in the kids’ hands. She had bargained, at least. One glass of soda only. No double patty, just regular-sized. But was it enough? 

Wonyoung forced a small smile as she leaned forward and gently wiped a smudge of sauce from Jinu’s cheek with a tissue, then refilled Hyunseo’s plate with another sliver of pizza. The kids were clearly delighted — eating heartily, laughing, swinging their legs beneath the table. Watching them now, she could almost hear Yujin’s voice in her head, teasing her: “It’s not a crime to let them enjoy being kids.” 

Even so, Wonyoung’s mind wandered briefly to whether Yujin would approve. Whether this counted as being irresponsible, letting the twins indulge on her watch. 

As they finished eating, Wonyoung reached for her wallet, but Hyunseo suddenly clapped her hands excitedly.

“Unnie! Let’s not go home yet!”

“Noona, let’s just one more! One more place!” Jinu added, his voice hopeful. 

Wonyoung blinked. “What now? You just recharged your energy with those burgers and now you want more adventure?” she said with mock surprise, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Is there a secret battery inside your stomach or something?” 

Hyunseo leaned in with pleading eyes. “They said in school we’re learning about fish! Can we go see the aquarium? Just real quick, promise!”

“Yes! Our teacher said to observe! So this is educational,” Jinu said seriously, nodding like a professor, his little legs swinging under the bench. 

Wonyoung nearly laughed. These two… they’re clever. Of course they’d play the education card on her. She glanced at the wall clock in the restaurant — it was just past 6:45 p.m. If she stretched things a little, they could maybe spend 45 minutes at the aquarium and be back before bedtime. 

She took out her phone and typed a message to Bong-san, asking where he was. His reply was swift and to the point:

Still waiting for Miss Yujin’s meeting to end. I’m parked at the building. 

Wonyoung hesitated. The twins looked up at her with the kind of expectant, hopeful eyes that made it almost impossible to say no. And really, it wouldn’t hurt, would it? They’d already had a full day — what was a short stroll through an aquarium going to change? 

“All right,” she sighed with a dramatic pause, folding her arms. “But just one hour. That’s it. And then we go home. Deal?” 

“Deal!” Hyunseo squealed, already hopping off the bench.

“You’re the best noona ever!” Jinu beamed, arms raised in victory. 

Wonyoung stood, grabbing her bag and the twins’ jackets from the side of the bench, her lips tugging upward despite herself. “Let’s go see some fish before your energy levels hit critical overdrive again.” 

She guided them out of the restaurant and toward the aquarium, the summer dusk already settling over the city like a lavender veil. Neon signs flickered to life, and the city’s gentle buzz hummed around them. The twins skipped ahead, their small hands occasionally reaching back to hold hers. 

And though Wonyoung reminded herself that even she was technically working overtime, she couldn’t deny how warm it felt to be their person — to be trusted like this. Even if it was a little chaotic. 

***

The soft blue glow of the aquarium reflected in the twins’ eyes as they pressed their little faces to the glass, captivated by the slow dance of jellyfish and the shimmering scales of tropical fish. Wonyoung followed close behind, her phone in hand, occasionally snapping photos — first of the twins marveling at a school of clownfish, calling Nemo and Dory, then a silly one where Jinu tried to puff his cheeks like a pufferfish, and then a group selfie in front of a massive tank where a rare striped ray glided by like a mythical creature. Jinu and Hyunseo squealed in delight, insisting on another photo when it turned around. 

Their voices echoed in the cavernous space between tanks. 

“Do fishes sleep with their eyes closed?” Jinu asked, craning his neck as a sleepy-looking catfish drifted by. 

Wonyoung chuckled. “Nope. Fish don’t have eyelids like we do, so they sleep with their eyes open.” 

Hyunseo gasped, horrified. “That’s scary.” 

“But they find a quiet place to rest, like under rocks or near the sand,” Wonyoung added gently. “Just like we find our pillows.” 

As they strolled deeper into the glowing tunnels, surrounded by silent, swimming creatures, Wonyoung asked, “What does your mommy like?” 

It was a casual question — just a light attempt to know Yujin better through the ones who knew her heart best. 

Hyunseo piped up first. “Mommy likes food! Really good food. Not just sweet things. Sometimes weird-smelling ones too.” 

“She also likes quiet,” Jinu said, skipping ahead a little but staying within reach. “Like when she drinks tea and sits on the balcony. That’s quiet.” 

Hyunseo nodded thoughtfully. “And she likes us.” 

“She loves you,” Wonyoung corrected softly with a warm smile. 

The kids continued listing things with childlike confidence — “boring colored—pajamas,” “books with no pictures,” “when we sleep early,” “white flowers.” 

Then Jinu, so casually, added, “And you, Noona.” 

Wonyoung stopped in her tracks, blinking. 

“What?” she asked, her voice higher than she intended. She turned to look at him, flustered. 

Jinu looked up at her with wide, sincere eyes. “Because you live with us now. And Mommy lets you cook. She is scared to let anyone cook for us. And she always smile when you make something. So she likes you.” 

Wonyoung opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her cheeks flushed immediately — hot and pink and impossible to hide in the soft aquarium light. 

“I-I think she just appreciates help,” Wonyoung mumbled, waving her hand as if to brush the comment away. 

“You’re red, Unnie!” Hyunseo giggled, tugging on Wonyoung’s sleeve. “Do you have a fever?” 

“Or an allergy?” Jinu asked, now concerned. 

“No, no— I'm fine!” Wonyoung laughed, ducking her head. “You two are just — ugh, never mind.” 

The twins burst into light-hearted laughter, clearly pleased with themselves for flustering their noona. Wonyoung sighed, unable to wipe the smile off her face, her heart oddly full. 

They continued walking hand-in-hand, deeper into the watery world around them, but something in Wonyoung’s chest fluttered with unfamiliar warmth. 

She hadn’t expected this job to feel like anything more than a stepping stone. 

Yet here she was — blushing in front of six-year-olds because of something as silly as being liked by their mother. 

And, somehow, that mattered to her. 

***

The cool night air nipped at Wonyoung’s skin as they stepped out of the glowing aquarium and into the dim, early evening. The streetlamps flickered on one by one, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. The sky was a hazy blue-gray now, tinged with the approaching darkness. Wonyoung pulled her cardigan tighter around her as she checked her phone again. 

Still no reply from Bongsan. 

She frowned, biting her lip. She had already messaged him over fifteen minutes ago. She tapped again, typing a new message — “We’re done at the aquarium. The twins are getting cold. Are you nearby?” — then hit send, hoping for the familiar “Seen” to appear. But nothing. The screen stayed stubbornly silent. 

“Noona,” Jinu said, tugging at her hand. “I’m cold now…” 

She turned to him quickly, worried. “You are?” 

The boy nodded, rubbing his small hands together. His cheeks were pink from the cold. 

“I want to go home,” Hyunseo added, hugging her stuffed fish souvenir tightly to her chest. “My nose is freezing.” 

Wonyoung’s heart dropped. She crouched to gently check Jinu’s ears already turning a little red and patted Hyunseo’s back. “Okay, okay. Let’s figure something out.” 

But her mind was already spiraling.

She had extended their trip far beyond what was planned — a quick outing to the park had turned into burgers, pizza, and now a full-on aquarium tour. She looked around, hoping maybe — miraculously — Bongsan’s car would appear around the corner. 

Nothing. 

Then Jinu glanced up. “Why don’t we just ride a bus?” 

Wonyoung blinked. “A bus?” 

“Yeah! It’s fun,” Jinu chirped. “We rode one before! A long time ago, with Mommy.” 

“No,” Wonyoung said gently but firmly. “It’s not allowed, remember?”

Yujin had told her on the very first day — no public commuting with the kids. It was a non-negotiable rule, made for safety, for privacy, for control. 

And yet… 

Here they were. Past 7PM, two tired kids in tow, the cold settling in, and no word from their driver. She had no clue where Bongsan was or why he wasn’t replying. She even tried calling, only to be sent straight to voicemail. 

“Miss Yujin’s going to kill me,” she whispered under her breath. 

Her eyes darted to the curb. She pulled out her phone again and opened a taxi-hailing app, her thumb hovering desperately over the screen. She tried three different services. Nothing. No drivers were accepting. Maybe it was traffic. Maybe it was too close to rush hour. Maybe… she was just completely screwed. 

“I can sneeze,” Hyunseo said helpfully, and then did — once, then twice. 

“Oh god,” Wonyoung muttered. 

She looked at them both: Jinu rubbing his hands together, Hyunseo’s nose now red and slightly runny, her tiny body shivering under her jacket. 

They couldn’t stay here. 

And they couldn’t keep waiting for a ride that might never come. 

Wonyoung closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply. Then, with a quick prayer to every deity she could think of, she made a decision. 

“Alright,” she said slowly, her voice steady despite her inner panic. “We’ll take the bus. Just this once.” 

“Really?” Jinu’s eyes lit up. 

“Yay! Yay yay yay!” Hyunseo clapped her hands. 

“Only if we walk really fast, okay?” Wonyoung said, already leading them toward the nearest stop she remembered seeing earlier. “And this is our last stop for the day. No more fish. No more pizza. No more surprises.” 

“Yes, Noona!” Jinu said, beaming. 

Hyunseo added, “You’re the best unnie ever.” 

Wonyoung didn’t say anything. She just sighed, looking up at the night sky as they made their way to the station. 

A quiet part of her hoped Bongsan would appear and save her at the last second. But he didn’t. As the three of them stepped onto the waiting bus, she mentally braced herself for what was coming next — because if Yujin found out… well. 

Wonyoung looked at the twins, now happily seated beside her on the bus, noses pressed to the window, pointing out lights and traffic as if it were an amusement park ride. 

She smiled faintly. 

Maybe it was worth it. 

***

The bus swayed gently as it made its way through the city streets, its dim yellow lights humming quietly overhead. Wonyoung sat on the outer side of the seat, with the twins nestled beside her, each pressed close to the window, their breath fogging up the glass as they traced invisible shapes with their fingertips. The motion of the ride, the soft hum of the engine, and the warmth of the twins beside her made Wonyoung close her eyes for a moment. Not to sleep, but just to rest. Just to breathe. 

It had been a long day. A good one, filled with laughter and pizza grease and the wonder of fish gliding behind thick aquarium glass — but still, long. She felt the weight of responsibility settle quietly on her chest, a warmth and a pressure all at once. 

Then, softly, she heard them. 

Their voices were no more than whispers, the kind of hushed tones only twins could perfect privately.

“I told you,” Jinu said in a low, proud voice, “Wonyoung noona is cooler than the other nannies we had.” 

There was a small pause before Hyunseo replied, more cautious. “I hope so.” 

Jinu nudged her. “She is! She went to the aquarium even if it’s not the plan. And she let us eat pizza and burger.” 

“She did…” Hyunseo said, then added softly, “But let’s see more, okay? The other nannies also played with us. But they always leave.” 

Silence fell between them for a beat. 

Jinu’s voice was quieter now. “I hope Wonyoung noona never leaves.” 

Wonyoung’s chest tightened. 

She kept her eyes shut, her breathing even, pretending to be asleep — but her heart was wide awake, stinging a little. 

These two small voices, so full of longing beneath the playful tones. Their words didn’t just brush past her — they settled deep, like raindrops soaking slowly into dry soil. 

They’ve had others. Many, probably. Women before her who came and went. Maybe some were too strict, some too tired, some just not willing to stay in a house. Maybe it wasn’t even their fault. Maybe none of this was the kids’ fault either. 

Her brows furrowed slightly as she listened to the soft breathing beside her, the kind of weary air only children trying to be too brave can exhale. 

They were just six. Still figuring out their alphabets and favorite colors and how to also look out for each other. They should be thinking about recess and crayons and storybooks — not whether the adults in their lives were going to leave again. Not if their mommy’s meetings would end soon. Not if the next nanny would pack up and vanish like all the rest. 

God, they must have had to adjust over and over again. New faces, new rules, new hands tying their shoes or helping with homework. It must have been exhausting — for little hearts to grow attached only to be left behind again. 

And now, on top of that, a divorce. A quiet, creeping storm they probably didn’t even fully understand. All they could feel was that something was broken — and worse, that it had something to do with them, and affected everything about them. 

Wonyoung opened her eyes just a sliver, stealing a glance at the twins. 

Jinu had his forehead against the window now, watching the passing headlights. Hyunseo clutched her stuffed fish with one hand, the other resting gently against her brother’s arm. 

They just want to be loved. They want consistency. Someone who stays. 

Her lips parted, as if to say something — but she stopped herself. 

Because right now, the most loving thing she could do… was simply be there. 

And silently, in her heart, Wonyoung made a small, invisible promise. 

She would try.

She would really try to stay. 

Even if it got chaotic.

Even if it meant tiptoeing around two parents at odds.

Even if she had to keep pretending she didn’t notice how lovely their mother looked in the early mornings. 

Even after she saved enough money, she would visit, she would keep in touch.

*** 

The ride back had been quiet — Jinu dozing off against Wonyoung’s side, Hyunseo leaning on her brother’s arm, both finally spent from the long, chaotic day. The moment the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, warmth rushed to greet them: soft lighting, faint hints of perfume, and a sense of stillness that had settled in before their return. 

Wonyoung quietly guided the twins out of their shoes. Jinu yawned loudly, making Hyunseo giggle. She wrangled them into their bathroom with gentleness — warm water, little towels, pajamas folded on their beds. She dried their hair slowly, lovingly, like she wasn’t in a rush. Like she wanted to delay the inevitable. 

Because Yujin wasn’t home yet. 

But she would be. 

And when she arrived, everything Wonyoung had done today — the laughter, the freedom, the fast food, the bus ride, even the fish facts — would be presented like a confession… by two very talkative, very excitable six-year-olds. 

As if summoned by thought, the front door opened with a soft chime just as Wonyoung was tucking Hyunseo under the blanket. The twins froze for a second, then bolted to the foyer barefoot, pajamas flapping as they ran. 

“Mommy!!” 

Yujin stepped in, elegant even in slacks and a blouse, heels in one hand, her long hair slightly tousled from a long day. She barely had time to crouch down before Jinu and Hyunseo crashed into her, arms thrown around her neck. 

“You’re back!”

“We went to the park!”

“We ate burgers and pizza and saw sharks!”

“And jellyfish!”

“And we rode the bus!” 

Wonyoung stood a few steps behind them, frozen in place, her heart stuttering at the word: bus. 

Yujin’s arms were around the twins, but her gaze flicked up to Wonyoung. Her expression changed. 

“Museum?” she echoed slowly. “Pizza? Burgers? …Bus?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where was Bongsan?” 

Wonyoung stepped forward, carefully keeping her tone steady. “He didn’t answer my messages or calls earlier. I assumed he was still waiting for you. I made a decision.” 

Yujin was quiet for a long second. 

Then she turned to the twins, brushing their hair back, kissing each of them softly on the forehead. “Go get back in bed, sweethearts. I’ll come in to kiss you goodnight in a bit.” 

“But we just saw you now—”

“I promise, five more minutes.” 

The twins nodded, reluctantly, casting one last look at Wonyoung before disappearing down the hallway, still bouncing from their day. 

Yujin stood. 

Her gaze met Wonyoung’s. Not sharp. Not soft. But unreadable. Dangerous in its calmness. 

“Miss Jang,” she said, tone crisp and formal. “Follow me to my office.” 

Wonyoung swallowed hard. 

Her feet moved before she could think, trailing behind Yujin through the silent living room, past the gallery walls, toward the sleek office near the back corner of the penthouse.

The door clicked shut behind her. 

Wonyoung stood just inside the threshold, hands folded in front of her, like a student waiting for punishment. 

Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t stop the inner voice, screaming now: 

You really fucked up.

This is it. You’re going to be fired.

She trusted you for a week and you’ve already broken every rule. 

Yujin walked to the desk slowly, placed her phone and keys down, and turned. 

Her arms crossed over her chest, the silence between them stretching long and heavy. 

Wonyoung bit her lip and forced herself to hold that gaze, even as the shame churned low in her stomach. 

The moment the office door closed behind them with a quiet click, Wonyoung’s chest felt tight. 

Yujin stood near her desk, hands on her hips, the sharp lines of her blazer catching the low amber light. She didn’t speak right away — just stared, eyes steady, unreadable. The city lights behind her painted a glow around her silhouette, casting her in silver and shadow. Wonyoung stayed near the door, heart thudding in her chest. 

“I just want to make sure I heard the twins correctly,” Yujin finally said, her voice smooth but clipped. “Pizza. Burgers. A museum. And then — a public bus.” 

Wonyoung straightened, trying to keep her nerves from showing. “Yes.” 

Her brow twitched upward. “I mean, sure — those things can happen from time to time. But a public bus, Miss Jang?” 

The way she said it — low, deliberate — made Wonyoung flinch inside. She knew this was coming. Still, she braced herself. 

“That’s one of the only standing rules I asked you to follow. You know that.” 

Wonyoung straightened her posture, clasping her hands behind her back. “The kids were starving. I tried to make sure it was still healthy — vegetables in the burgers, thin-crust pizza, nothing heavy. They begged, and honestly… I didn’t want to deny them something so simple.” 

Yujin’s jaw twitched, but she let her speak. 

“As for the bus,” Wonyoung added, swallowing, “I tried reaching Bongsan. He didn’t reply. I tried calling a taxi twice. None accepted. It was already dark, it was cold, and the twins were starting to shiver. I made a judgment call.” 

Yujin’s head tilted, a slow arch of her brow. “A judgment call?” 

“Yes.” Wonyoung didn’t falter. “Because standing around longer in the dark with two children didn’t seem like a better option. That’s not safer. And I wasn’t about to let them freeze. I don’t want them to get sick.”

 Her voice wasn’t loud — but it was firm. 

Yujin pushed off the desk, her arms unfolding. There was something sharp in her exhale. 

“You could have called me.” 

Wonyoung blinked, caught off guard. “I… didn’t think I was allowed to. You’re always busy. I assumed—” 

“Assumed?” Yujin cut in, her voice clipped. “If you’re about to break one of my rules, you don’t assume. You call. Especially when it comes to my children’s safety.” 

The room thickened with tension. Wonyoung felt heat crawl up her neck. She stepped forward, tone rising. 

“You’re talking like I endangered them on purpose! What should I have done, then? Let them shiver outside longer, hoping someone might magically show up? We would’ve stood out there for God knows how long!” 

“I’m not saying you should’ve left them out there—” 

“Because that’s how it sounds,” Wonyoung snapped, before she could stop herself. “Like you’re accusing me of putting them in danger when all I did was try to make the best call in a bad situation.” 

Silence. 

Neither moved. 

Yujin inhaled, a tight breath. Then she exhaled slowly and said, quieter now, “You don’t understand.” 

Wonyoung’s mouth opened, but Yujin continued — her voice slightly hoarse, like something was stuck behind it. 

“If something happened to the twins…” Her words slowed, suddenly hesitant. “Or with you…” 

She stopped. 

Just like that. 

The edge fell off her voice mid-sentence, as if she realized too late what she almost admitted. 

Wonyoung’s breath hitched.

Or with you.

Those words echoed strangely in her chest, loud despite being whispered. Her heart stuttered in her ribs. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her hands cold. She stared at Yujin, barely breathing. 

Was she worried about me? 

Yujin didn’t look angry anymore. Not exactly. Her shoulders had dipped just slightly, and her gaze — intense only a moment ago — had softened.

They just stared at each other. 

The air between them pulled tight, as though some invisible thread had drawn them a step closer without either of them noticing. 

Wonyoung’s cheeks flushed, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. How quiet the room was. How Yujin’s voice had cracked slightly, how her control faltered just enough to let the worry show. 

Not just for the twins. 

But for her. 

That realization warmed and unsettled Wonyoung at the same time. She turned her gaze to the floor, unsure what to say, her throat dry. 

Wonyoung had to glance away, heat blooming across her cheeks. Her hands felt too hot, too empty. Her thoughts scrambled. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly but clearly. “Next time… I’ll call. I promise.” 

Yujin didn’t respond at first. 

Then she exhaled, slow and deep, her gaze flicking away for a breath before meeting Wonyoung’s again. “You can call me. Anytime.” Her voice softened just slightly. “If you can’t reach Bongsan, or if you’re unsure. Even if you think it’s small. You can still call.” 

Wonyoung swallowed. “Even if it’s not an emergency?” 

Yujin’s lips pressed together, as if weighing her words. Then: “Even then.” 

There was a pause. 

Long. Loaded. 

Wonyoung felt it — that something between them again. Not quite spoken, but alive and crackling in the quiet. The way Yujin was looking at her… like she wasn’t just a nanny she needed to scold. Like she wasn’t just a stranger living under the same roof.

Something was different now.

It was in the small shift of Yujin’s posture, the faint furrow between her brows, the sharpness of her words softening into… interest? Vulnerability? It was hard to name. 

“…Okay,” Wonyoung said.

Yujin stepped back around her desk but didn’t sit down. 

Wonyoung started backing toward the door, heart still racing. “Well… I’ll get out of your way now.” 

“Wonyoung.” 

She turned, surprised to hear Yujin say her name like that — so plainly, without the formal edge of “Miss Jang,” without the stiffness of title or boundary. 

Yujin’s eyes were on her. Direct. Steady. 

“I mean it,” she said. “You can call me.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Wonyoung said softly. 

And then, finally, she stepped out. Closing the door behind her with a soft click that echoed just a second too long in the quiet. 

Inside the office, Yujin stood alone, staring at the space where Wonyoung had just been. One hand braced lightly on the edge of her desk. 

God. 

What was that?

***

Wonyoung closed her bedroom door quietly behind her, leaning back against the wood like it was the only thing holding her up. Her heart was still pounding — not in that panicked oh no I’m about to get fired kind of way (though that had been very real just moments ago), but in that strange, hot, confusing aftershock of... whatever the hell that was. 

She took a deep breath and walked slowly to her bed, the lights dim, the silence around her finally giving space to the whirlwind of thoughts she’d been keeping locked down through the whole conversation. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, then flopped back fully, letting her hair fan out over the pillow as she stared at the ceiling. 

"God," she muttered to herself, covering her face with both hands. “What just happened?” 

Because something had definitely happened. Not just a scolding. Not just a conversation between boss and employee. 

Yujin had been staring at her like— 

Wonyoung groaned softly into her palms. She couldn’t stop replaying that moment. That last look before she left the room. The low, almost vulnerable way Yujin had said, "Or with you…"

 What the hell did that mean? 

She turned her head into the pillow, half-suffocated by embarrassment. Is that how Yujin looks when she’s about to fire someone? Because if so, damn... it was terrifying. But also— 

“Ugh,” she hissed, sitting up suddenly. “No. No, no, stop it.” 

Because what kind of person thinks that was hot? 

Except… it kind of was. 

That quiet intensity. The way Yujin’s voice had dipped into something softer — something almost hesitant — before snapping back into her usual clipped professionalism. The way she’d said her name. Just Wonyoung. No Miss Jang. No title. Just… Wonyoung. 

And the way she said it. 

Wonyoung shook her head quickly, trying to dispel the heat crawling up the back of her neck. “You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “She’s your boss. Your boss. This is real life now. Not some fantasy interview clip where you crush on her from a safe distance.” 

Back then, before she even met her, before she moved into this huge penthouse and tucked sleepy twins into bed, it was easy to giggle and fangirl with Hanni about the elusive An Yujin. Back when Yujin was just the cold-faced executive on glossy magazine covers, rumored to be all work and no softness. 

But this version of her — the version that stood in that office, arms crossed and eyes flickering with a thousand guarded emotions  — this Yujin was different. Real. Frustrated. Controlled. And… weirdly fascinating. 

Wonyoung pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly, suddenly overwhelmed. She’s your boss. And she has children. And a complicated soon-to-be-ex. And Wonyoung lived here now. This was not something she could afford to mess up. Not even think about messing up. 

But still… 

“No. Nope. Not doing this,” she muttered out loud, voice sharp with fake determination. “You’re spiraling.” 

It was one long, emotionally packed day. A perfect storm of exhaustion, pressure, and… confusing proximity. The park, the aquarium, the bus, the cold, the confrontation, the intensity. Anyone would overthink a little after that, right? 

Wonyoung sat up and reached for the lamp beside her bed, switching it off with a soft click, casting the room in quiet shadows. 

"Sleep," she whispered to herself. "You just need sleep. Not drama. Not delusions." 

She flopped back into the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She was fine. Everything was fine. Yujin probably already forgot about the whole thing. Probably didn’t mean anything by the way she looked at her. Probably just relieved the kids came home safe. Probably… probably nothing. 

And with that, she shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to sleep, as if the darkness could shut out the flicker of heat still lingering in her chest. 

***

The soft glow of the nightlight painted the twin’s room in a warm hue, casting shadows on the walls where flowers and stars danced slowly across the ceiling. Yujin sat on the chair between the twins’ bed.

“So… You both had fun today?” 

Hyunseo nodded immediately, the movement making her hair bounce against her pillow. “Yes! But…” Her expression turned uncertain as she glanced down at her fingers twisting the blanket. “Mommy, are you mad?” 

“Mad?” 

“Because… we rode a public bus,” Hyunseo said carefully, her small voice lined with guilt. 

“I was scared,” Jinu piped up from his bed, voice even smaller. “I thought you were mad. I didn’t want you to be.” 

Yujin’s heart twinged at that. She turned to him, reaching across to ruffle his soft, dark hair. “I’m not mad,” she said gently. “I was just surprised. I always want you both safe. That’s all.” 

“Then…” Hyunseo tilted her head, peering at her mother curiously. “Are you going to fire Wonyoung unnie?” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because of the bus,” Hyunseo said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You said no public buses. You said only with Bongsan ajusshi.” 

“Please don’t fire Wonyoung noona!” Jinu added quickly, almost sitting up. “She’s really nice to us. And fun! I like her.” 

“She never lets us eat too much candy,” Hyunseo added matter-of-factly. “And we don’t even eat fast food. Only today! But she cooked so much better things than fast food.” 

Jinu nodded eagerly. “She is magician. She makes healthy food taste sooo good!” 

Yujin couldn’t help it — her lips curved into a soft smile despite herself. The sincerity in their voices tugged at her chest. She brushed a strand of Hyunseo’s hair away from her cheek, smoothing it behind her ear. 

“I see…” she murmured, her voice laced with something softer than amusement. Relief, maybe. 

The twins really liked her. Really trusted her. 

And truthfully, Yujin hadn’t seen the kids this bright in a long time. Not since… well, a while. 

Still, her smile faded just a little as she sat back. That warmth inside her… wasn’t only about the twins. There was a ripple of something she’d been ignoring, something that always lingered when Wonyoung was around. She leaned slightly, watching the soft rhythm of the twins breathing, and let the thoughts rise, uninvited. 

Wonyoung was kind. She was attentive. Gentle. She had this energy that filled a room with ease — like sunshine slipping through blinds in the early morning. 

She was too warm. Too good. Too… beautiful. 

Yujin frowned, catching herself, almost startled. 

Why are you even thinking about that? 

So what? She’s a woman too. 

Her own inner voice sounded stiff, defensive. She clenched her jaw for a second. 

She was your fan, remember? And now she works for you. Lives in your home. She takes care of your children. 

What was she even entertaining? 

Yujin snapped out of her thoughts when Hyunseo blinked up at her. “Mommy?” 

Yujin forced a breath out and smiled again, softer now, more grounded. “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hyunseo’s forehead, then crossed to Jinu’s bed and kissed his too. 

“Goodnight, you two,” she said, smoothing their blankets down. 

“Goodnight, mommy,” they murmured sleepily, voices already thick with the edges of sleep. 

***

Yujin returned to her bedroom, the door clicking softly shut behind her. The stillness felt heavier now — or maybe it was just the weight of her thoughts. She sat on the edge of her bed, eyes on the floor, mind still spinning through the day. 

She thought again about Wonyoung. The way she stood her ground earlier. That flash of indignation in her eyes when she thought she was being accused of carelessness. That flushed face. That silence between them. 

Yujin exhaled deeply, dragging a hand through her hair. 

This is getting out of hand. 

Wonyoung wasn’t like the others. She didn’t tiptoe around Yujin, didn’t fold immediately when tension rose. She didn’t fake the sweetness — it was just… there. Genuine. Maddeningly genuine. 

And the twins — they adored her already. That part, at least, was undeniable. Since Wonyoung started, they hadn’t thrown a tantrum, hadn’t cried during meals, hadn’t refused bedtime. That kind of peace? Yujin hadn't seen in months. 

She leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

 “I can’t fire her,” she muttered to herself, voice flat but sure. “It’s hard enough to find someone that fits.” 

She hated going through new hires, hated the trial runs, hated how the twins always looked a little more disappointed each time another nanny left. 

And besides… Wonyoung hadn’t done anything wrong exactly. 

The park, the food — all reasonable. The bus? Risky, yes. But understandable, given the circumstances. She made a call. It wasn’t reckless. 

So no — there wasn’t really a reason to fire her. 

Not yet. 

But still. 

“I’ll just… watch her more closely,” Yujin murmured, almost like a warning to herself. 

It wasn’t about Wonyoung. Not really. It was about the kids. Their safety. Their wellbeing. And making sure this warmth Wonyoung brought into the house was genuine. 

End of story. 

At least for tonight. 

 

Chapter 4: at the same table

 

The morning sun filtered softly through the kitchen windows over the breakfast table. The scent of warm toast and eggs drifted lazily in the air as Wonyoung moved around the kitchen, pouring juice into cups while the twins munched on their food. Hyunseo had her hair in pigtails this early, while Jinu was already halfway through his toast, crumbs decorating the front of his pajamas. 

Yujin stood by the front door, crisp and elegant as always in her blazer. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Hyunseo’s forehead, then to Jinu’s. “Be good today, okay?” 

“We will!” the twins chimed in unison, their voices high with promise. 

Yujin’s eyes briefly flicked toward Wonyoung, their gazes brushing only for a moment before she turned and stepped out. The sound of the door clicking shut was soft. 

Silence lingered for a second. Then, as if on cue, Jinu looked up from his plate and whispered conspiratorially, “Noona…” 

Wonyoung turned from the sink. “Hm?” 

Jinu leaned forward on his elbows. “Let’s surprise mommy.” 

Hyunseo, without missing a beat, perked up and clapped her hands. “Yes! Let’s make something for her!” 

Wonyoung tilted her head with a curious smile. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

Hyunseo chewed thoughtfully, then looked up with big eyes. “Because… mommy looked kinda mad yesterday.” 

Wonyoung paused, caught off guard. Her smile faltered slightly as she moved to sit across from them. “You think so?” 

Jinu nodded, his mouth small. “She didn’t yell… but her eyes were a little scary.” 

Hyunseo pushed a grape around her plate with her fork. “She said goodnight really fast too.” 

Wonyoung’s chest tugged. They remembered. She had hoped the tension last night would pass over their little heads, dismissed and forgotten by morning. But kids — especially sensitive ones like these — always noticed more than adults gave them credit for. 

Her softened her voice. “I don’t think she was mad. I think… she was just worried. She didn’t expect all the extra things we did yesterday.” 

“But we had fun,” Jinu frowned. 

“I know. Me too.” Wonyoung reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Hyunseo’s ear. “But you know what? Saying sorry, even when we didn’t mean anything bad, can still be a really kind thing to do.” 

Hyunseo suddenly brightened. “Then we can cook dinner! A special dinner! Like a fancy one!” 

“Yeah!” Jinu’s eyes sparkled. “With candles and folded napkins and everything!” 

Wonyoung blinked, holding back a laugh. “Candles, huh? That’s… too formal.” 

“Please, unnie?” Hyunseo leaned closer, tugging at Wonyoung’s sleeve. “Mommy likes fancy dinner. We wanna do it this time.” 

Jinu nodded fiercely. “She needs a surprise. A good one.” 

Wonyoung hesitated for a beat, lips pursed in thought. Her gaze drifted toward the door where Yujin had just walked out. She could still hear her voice from last night echoing in her mind, that tight edge of frustration, the barely veiled concern. 

Maybe a small gesture — simple, warm, heartfelt — was what they all needed. 

She smiled, biting her lip to keep it steady. “Alright, deal. After I pick you up from school, we’ll go to the grocery and buy ingredients. But that means you two need to think carefully about what you want to cook.” 

The twins beamed like they'd just won a prize. 

“Yes!!” Jinu raised both fists in the air. 

Hyunseo whispered like it was the most serious mission of her life, “Fancy. Like… mommy likes. Not messy.” 

Wonyoung chuckled as she stood to collect their empty plates. “Well then, you two better start planning your fancy menu. You’ve got until three o’clock.” 

As she turned back to the sink, she felt a warmth curl in her chest — not from the sunlight, but from the image of two determined little kids trying to make their mother smile again. And she wanted to see that smile too. 

***

The moment the school bell rang, the twins burst through the front gate with boundless energy. Wonyoung stood waiting beside the black van, one hand raised in a casual wave. Bongsan, ever-patient, was by the door, holding it open. 

“Unnie!” Hyunseo called out, backpack bouncing behind her as she ran up. 

“We don’t have tutor today!” Jinu added, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement. 

“Oh?” Wonyoung blinked, amused. “Wow. What perfect timing…” 

She shared a quick look with Bongsan, who only gave a subtle, knowing nod. The children clambered inside, chatting all at once. The air in the van was already bubbling with enthusiasm. 

By the time they arrived at the fresh supermarket — a smaller, more curated farmer’s market-style store nestled in a quieter part of the neighborhood — the twins looked around in wonder. 

“But… why not the grocery store?” Hyunseo asked, her head tilted as she clutched Wonyoung’s hand. 

“Yeah,” Jinu echoed, squinting up at the unfamiliar wooden signage. “This place looks different.” 

Wonyoung leaned down with a mysterious smile. “Because the best ingredients come from here. The vegetables are fresher. Most are picked the same day. And the meat here? Top-tier. If we’re making something for your mom, we need only the best, right?” 

“Oooh…” the twins said in unison, suddenly walking with more purpose. 

As they passed the small crates of glistening cherry tomatoes and vibrant green herbs, Wonyoung crouched near them and asked, “So… what’s the plan, chefs? What do you want to cook?” 

“Burger!” Hyunseo said confidently, her small hand already reaching for a bunch of lettuce. 

Jinu gasped. “A fancy burger!” 

Wonyoung blinked. “Really? Of all things?” 

Jinu stood straight, a serious expression on his face. “So we can show mommy that burgers can be fancy and healthy!” 

Wonyoung laughed, hands on her hips. “You guys are really pushing the burger agenda.” 

She turned toward Bongsan, who trailed just a few steps behind them with the cart. “Thoughts?” 

Bongsan pushed up his glasses slightly and said in his usual low tone, “Well… Miss Yujin might actually appreciate something simple. She’s used to a lot of gourmet meals — maybe something cooked with this kind of heart will leave more of an impression.” 

Hyunseo gave a thoughtful nod like a tiny adult. “Mommy eats steak and salad and french food all the time. She’ll be surprised if we give her a burger.” 

“And fries,” Jinu chimed in. “But sweet potato fries! The orange ones!” 

“I love it,” Wonyoung said, feeling oddly proud. “Healthy-ish, thoughtful, and sweet. Alright. Let’s do this.” 

Together, they began picking through ingredients with care — juicy tomatoes, soft brioche buns, fresh ground beef, arugula, garlic aioli, avocados. Wonyoung made sure they had everything needed to elevate the humble burger. The twins helped pick the best sweet potatoes, carefully choosing only the ones with the smoothest skin, as if they were precious gems. 

They were halfway through the aisle when Hyunseo suddenly gasped. “Wait!” 

Jinu looked up. “What?” 

Hyunseo turned dramatically to Wonyoung. “We forgot the most important part.” 

Wonyoung raised a brow. “Which is?” 

“Gifts!” Hyunseo declared with big eyes. “We need to give mommy presents!” 

Jinu gasped like it was the best idea he’d ever heard. “YES! We need to buy mommy something! A real surprise!” 

Wonyoung laughed softly, the warmth of their eagerness infecting her. “You two really thought this through, huh?” 

“Please, unnie?” Jinu pleaded, tugging at her hand. “Just a little one? I know what I want to get her!” 

Wonyoung pretended to think for a long moment, arms crossed dramatically as the twins looked up at her with pleading eyes. 

“…Okay, okay.” She smiled. “But we have to be quick. Let’s pay here first, then we’ll swing by the mall. Deal?” 

“Deal!” the twins shouted, high-fiving each other. 

As they left the fresh supermarket with a couple of bags in hand, Wonyoung watched them chatter about what gifts to buy for their mommy — Jinu wanted to look at stuffed toys and Hyunseo was sure her mom needed something pretty and sparkly. 

***

The twins practically skipped ahead, their small feet pattering against the glossy tiles as they made a beeline toward a charming little lifestyle boutique nestled near the corner of the second floor. 

Inside, everything was soft pastels and delicate lighting — rows of cute trinkets, small accessories, plushies, dainty home goods, and scented candles filled the shelves. 

“Ooooh,” Hyunseo breathed, drawn toward a display of sparkly compact mirrors with rhinestone-studded edges and delicate patterns. She picked up a heart-shaped one that shimmered pink and gold. “Unnie, look at this!” 

At the same time, Jinu gasped from a few feet away. “Noona! Noona, look!” 

He held up a plush toy — an oversized, fluffy white puppy with floppy ears and a pink ribbon around its neck. Its eyes were wide and sparkly, the kind of stuffed toy that looked like it had just asked to be hugged. 

Hyunseo walked over, still holding her mirror. “Which one is better, unnie?” she asked, her big eyes serious. “The mirror or the puppy?” 

Wonyoung crouched down between them, folding her hands beneath her chin in mock deliberation. “Hmm… the mirror is really pretty. But the puppy is so cute…” 

The twins leaned in. 

“…I say… both.” 

“Yay!” they cheered in unison, completely thrilled. 

“Mommy is so lucky,” Jinu said proudly, hugging the puppy plush to his chest. “She’s gonna get two presents!” 

“And dinner too!” Hyunseo added. 

Then, as they headed toward the counter, Jinu paused mid-step and looked up at Wonyoung. “Wait. Noona?” 

“Yes?” 

“What’s your gift for Mommy?” 

Wonyoung blinked. “My gift?” 

Hyunseo turned too, her expression suddenly serious. “Yeah! You were part of the trouble yesterday too, right?” 

Jinu nodded solemnly. “You broke the rules with us, so you need to say sorry also!” 

Wonyoung felt her mouth fall slightly open. The twins weren’t accusing — they were just stating facts with the clear-cut honesty only kids could wield. And they were… right. She had indulged them. She had made judgment calls, ignored protocol, and took liberties she hadn’t technically been given. Even if it came from a good place, it still broke rules. She’d let her guard down, and in the process, so had the kids. 

She sighed, placing her hands on her hips as they waited in line. “What can you even give someone who has everything?” she murmured to herself. 

“A hug and a kiss,” Hyunseo said immediately, looking pleased with herself. 

Jinu wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Not a kiss though.” 

Wonyoung laughed, covering her mouth. “A hug and a kiss?” 

“Nooo!” Jinu protested, shaking the stuffed puppy in mock horror. 

Wonyoung bent slightly and poked his cheek. “What if I gave her a really tight bear hug?” 

“Okay, but only that,” Jinu agreed. 

But as Wonyoung turned back toward the register, watching the cashier wrap the mirror in tissue paper and tuck the plush dog into a paper bag, her smile lingered — soft, thoughtful, and just a little distracted. 

What did you give to someone like An Yujin? 

She could buy herself anything. Clothes, jewelry, flowers, food — none of that would really matter. 

Maybe… the only thing she couldn’t buy was something real. Effort. Meaning. A gesture that was sincere. 

Wonyoung's gaze drifted across the shop to a small shelf near the corner. Minimalist stationery sets, delicate hand-poured candles, a tiny set of pressed - flower bookmarks — all practical, thoughtful, personal. 

At the soft, pastel-lit corner of the wellness section, Wonyoung crouched in front of a neat shelf lined with essential oils and self-care bundles. She picked up a small aromatherapy roll-on labeled Calm Mind and turned it in her fingers, testing the faint scent of lavender and bergamot. It was soothing — gentle, but grounding — and she thought instantly of Yujin’s usual stoic face, the slight tension in her jaw, the sighs she tried to stifle after long workdays. 

Next, she grabbed a cooling eye mask, one with a subtle silk finish, and nestled it next to the oil in the basket. Then, almost impulsively, her fingers hovered over a small amber-glass bottle of massage oil — eucalyptus and mint, the label read. She hesitated. 

Too much? No, she told herself. It’s just for sore muscles. Totally normal. Practical. 

Still, her cheeks warmed slightly as she dropped it into the basket. 

As she stood, Jinu peeked over the edge of the cart with wide, curious eyes. “Why so many things, Noona?” 

Wonyoung smiled, brushing a hand over his soft hair. “Because your mommy is usually stressed. Don’t you agree?” 

Jinu nodded with childish seriousness. “Yeah. Mommy works a lot. And she’s old.” 

Wonyoung burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Jinu! She’s not old. Your mom is just 32.”

 “32 is old,” Jinu said with a shrug, completely unfazed. 

Hyunseo leaned closer to the basket and picked up the eye mask. “So these are to make mommy relax and happy again?” 

“Yes,” Wonyoung said, kneeling between them. “We’re giving her a little kit. Something to help her relax. She deserves it.” 

The twins seemed to consider this very carefully, then nodded in perfect agreement. 

At the checkout, Hyunseo spotted a small blank note card tucked into the gift box and grinned. “Unnie! Are you going to write a letter?” 

“Yeah,” Jinu added, eyes lighting up with the idea. “You should write: Sorry Miss An, hugs!” 

Wonyoung chuckled. “That’s… one option.” 

She took the pen the cashier offered and leaned over the gift box, scribbling slowly, her face calm but her heart fluttering slightly as she wrote her quiet message.

She paused, reading over it. It was subtle. Innocent. But personal. 

Just enough. 

Before the twins could peek, she quickly slid the note inside the box and shut the lid. 

“Hey, what did you write?” Hyunseo asked, leaning on the cart handle. 

“Yeah! Let us see!” Jinu begged. 

Wonyoung grinned and wagged a playful finger. “Secret. Maybe your mommy will show you later.” 

“Awwwww!” the twins groaned in unison. 

Wonyoung patted their backs and laughed. “Alright, alright, secret or not — we should get going. We have a burger masterpiece to make, remember?” 

As they headed out, the twins skipped ahead, giggling and talking about sweet potato fries and how tall their burger should be. Wonyoung followed behind with the gift box in her arms, feeling her heartbeat still slightly elevated. 

***

The kitchen was filled with the warm, savory scent of seared patties and sweet potatoes roasting in the oven. A low sizzle crackled from the pan, and steam rose gently into the air, curling in soft spirals under the overhead light. Wonyoung stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, her hair pinned loosely, focused as she carefully flipped the burger patties with ease. The stovetop was tidy, the prep bowls neatly aligned, and the twins were perched on the tall kitchen stools beside her — aprons on, tiny hands occasionally reaching to sprinkle herbs or mix a bowl of sauce under her watchful eye. 

“Careful, that’s too close,” Wonyoung said gently as Hyunseo reached over, guiding her hand away from the hot skillet. 

“Yes, Chef!” Hyunseo saluted dramatically, making Wonyoung giggle. 

Jinu, holding a little bowl of cherry tomatoes, popped one into his mouth and said through a full cheek, “This is gonna be the fanciest burger in the world!” 

Wonyoung laughed. “Chew first, then speak, little chef.” 

They were just sliding the tray of sweet potato fries into the oven when the click of the front door echoed from the hallway. 

All three of them froze for a second, then. 

“MOMMY’S HOME!” Jinu squealed, nearly dropping the empty bowl as he rushed out of the kitchen, Hyunseo hot on his heels. 

Wonyoung wiped her hands quickly on a towel, heart skipping a beat as she heard the twins' loud footsteps followed by Yujin’s low, tired voice. 

Yujin stepped inside, heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor, still dressed in her fitted blazer and black slacks. She looked like she had just walked off a magazine cover — elegant, controlled, beautiful — but the second the twins barreled into her, her posture relaxed just a little. 

“Mommy, welcome home!” Jinu chirped, throwing his arms around her waist. 

“Guess what!” Hyunseo added, tugging at Yujin’s sleeve excitedly. 

Yujin let out a soft chuckle, one brow arching. “Uh-oh. A surprise?” 

The twins both nodded eagerly. 

Yujin squinted at them, playing along. “This isn’t another prank, is it? I’m not going to sit on whipped cream again, am I?” 

“Nooo!” Jinu laughed, shaking his head. 

“No prank, promise,” Hyunseo said solemnly, grabbing her hand. “We made you dinner. A real dinner!” 

Yujin blinked. “You... cooked?” 

“We helped!” Jinu clarified, puffing his chest with pride. “Wonyoung noona did the hot stuff.” 

“She made it fancy!” Hyunseo added. “You’ll see!” 

Wonyoung stood at the kitchen entrance now, hands still tucked into the towel she’d used. Her eyes met Yujin’s briefly — a flicker of something passing between them — before she broke the gaze, gesturing toward the table. 

“Everything’s just about ready,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual. “It’s the twins’ idea. A peace offering, kind of.” 

Yujin glanced at her, then back at the twins who were practically bouncing with excitement. Her lips curved into something soft and rare — a real smile. 

“Well,” she said, letting the kids pull her by both hands toward the kitchen, “I can’t say no to a peace offering that smells this good.” 

As she was guided in, she took in the scene: the cozy table set with handmade place cards the twins had scribbled their names on, cloth napkins folded with care, and a plate already waiting with a golden bun stacked high with colorful toppings and a perfectly - seared patty. On the side, crispy sweet potato fries glistened, sprinkled with rosemary and sea salt. A little dish of dipping sauce sat beside it. 

“Wow,” she said, blinking. “This actually looks… gourmet.” 

“Told you!” Jinu beamed. 

Wonyoung crossed her arms and smiled, looking faintly proud. “Only the best for their Mom.” 

Yujin turned to her, and for just a beat too long, her gaze lingered. There was something unreadable in her expression — not quite a smile, not quite a frown. Just… watching. 

And Wonyoung felt it again, the strange heat under her skin. She quickly looked away and moved to get the drinks. She stood by the counter, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. 

Yujin slipped off her blazer and laid it neatly over the back of a chair as the aroma of warm food enveloped her. She rolled her sleeves up, the stiffness in her shoulders melting just slightly as she sat at the head of the table. The twins eagerly climbed onto their seats, eyes glinting with excitement. 

She looked at the spread before her — golden-crisp sweet potato fries, a burger that looked like it belonged in a food magazine with its colorful layers and fresh ingredients. Her eyes briefly flicked to Wonyoung, who had stepped back toward the kitchen, clearly intending to excuse herself. 

“Hey,” Yujin called.

Wonyoung turned mid-step, one hand still on the fridge handle, brows lifted in surprise. 

“You should eat too,” Yujin said. 

“Oh—” Wonyoung started, her tone instinctively deferential. “I was going to give you space with the twins—” 

“No,” Yujin interrupted gently but insistently. “Join us. Please?” 

The added softness in her voice — that please — settled in the air. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. 

Wonyoung blinked, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Let me just grab my plate.” 

As she returned with her own burger, she caught Yujin watching her again. Not coldly. Not sternly. Just… looking. With interest. 

Wonyoung took the seat across from her, heart doing an odd little flutter as her thigh brushed the table leg. Yujin picked up her burger, looked at it, then took a bite — her brows lifted almost immediately. 

“This is good,” Yujin said with a slight laugh, licking the corner of her lip. “Like... really good. Simple. And thank God it’s not one of those tiny, three-bite ones with foie gras and gold flakes.” 

The twins giggled, but Wonyoung looked pleased, even a little shy. “You mean those ones that look pretty but you leave the restaurant still hungry?” 

Yujin nods. “This is real food.” 

Wonyoung grinned at that, the tip of her tongue caught briefly between her teeth. “High praise from Miss An.” 

Yujin smirked. “You deserve it” 

Before Wonyoung could quip back, the twins suddenly gasped and jumped off their chairs. 

“You haven’t seen the best part yet!” Hyunseo grinned. 

Yujin raised a brow. “There’s more?” 

“The gifts!” Hyunseo exclaimed. 

“Wait here!” Jinu added, both of them dashing out of the room with all the grace of a stampede. 

Yujin chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “God help me. Every time they say ‘surprise’ I brace myself for glitter bombs.” 

Wonyoung laughed. “No glitter tonight, promise.” 

The twins returned moments later, panting slightly as they each held up their chosen gift with pride. 

Jinu held up the soft plush puppy, its floppy ears and big button eyes ridiculously cute. “Ta-da! For you!” 

Hyunseo offered the small handheld mirror, its edges lined in subtle sparkles and shaped like a heart. “And this one’s from me!” 

Yujin blinked at the two of them, momentarily caught off guard. Then her expression softened entirely. 

“You guys...” she said, her voice lower now, touched. She took the mirror first, turning it over in her hand. “This is beautiful, thank you Hyun.” 

Then she reached for the plushie, holding it up. “And this little guy... adorable.” 

“It’s for when you’re working,” Jinu said proudly. “So you won’t feel lonely at your big desk.” 

Yujin’s smile turned wistful, the edges of her eyes crinkling. “You two are too sweet. Thank you. Really.” 

She glanced up at Wonyoung next, her tone warm. “And thank you... for all of this.” 

Wonyoung, already mid-bite of her burger, nearly choked at the sudden direct attention. Her eyes darted up, cheeks flushed pink. 

“I— It was their idea,” she said quickly, laughing it off. 

And Wonyoung felt it again. That subtle pull, that heavy air that came whenever Yujin looked at her with anything other than professional detachment. It wasn’t flirtatious. Not really. But it was charged. 

“So,” Yujin said, tearing her eyes away to look at her kids. “Tell me about your day. I want the full report.” 

Hyunseo straightened. “Okay! So after school, Bongsan picked us up with Wonyoung unnie—” 

“And we didn’t have a tutor today!” Jinu added, mouth still half-full. “So we went straight to the... what was it again?” 

“Farmer’s market,” Wonyoung supplied helpfully. 

“Yeah! There!” Jinu said. “They had vegetables and real chickens and—” 

“Mommy, Wonyoung unnie said that fresh markets have the best stuff,” Hyunseo said wisely. “So we got sweet potatoes there.” 

“And then we went to the mall!” Jinu piped in, eyes wide. 

Yujin arched a brow and glanced at Wonyoung. “The mall?” 

Wonyoung shrugged playfully, sipping her juice. “They were very persuasive.” 

“I bet,” Yujin murmured, but the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. 

***

Dinner was winding down, laughter still lingering around the table like the scent of freshly baked sweet potato fries. Jinu had just popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth when he suddenly sat up straighter and pointed a finger toward Wonyoung. 

“Wait! Where’s Wonyoung noona’s gift?” he said with wide, expectant eyes. 

Yujin, mid-chew with a fry, blinked and turned to Wonyoung in surprise. “You got me a gift?” she asked, reaching for her glass of water to wash down the bite, her brows lifting in mild amusement. 

Before Wonyoung could answer, Hyunseo leaned over the table and said with a very serious nod, “It’s old woman stuff.” 

Yujin almost choked on her water. She turned away to cough, laughing between gasps, clearly caught off guard. “Old woman stuff?” she echoed, her voice cracking with disbelief and amusement. “What on earth does that mean?” 

Wonyoung burst into laughter too, covering her mouth. “It’s not— I swear it’s not like that,” she said between chuckles. “It’s just… a wellness kit. For stress. You know, like aromatherapy things, and a cooling mask… and— well, yes, maybe some massage oil, but not in a weird way!” Her hands fluttered in the air like she was trying to dispel the awkwardness, cheeks already turning pink. 

Yujin, still laughing, reached for another fry and shook her head. “Massage oil? God, that does sound like old woman stuff.” 

“It’s in my room,” Wonyoung said, moving to stand. “I can get it—” 

But Yujin’s voice cut in. “You can give it to me later. Let’s just… enjoy dinner for now.” 

Wonyoung froze briefly, then eased back into her seat with a small nod. Her heart skipped for some reason she couldn’t explain. 

Across the table, Jinu chewed thoughtfully, then looked up. “So… does that mean you like Wonyoung noona again, Mommy? And you’re not mad?” 

The question floated in the room like a spark looking for something flammable to land on. Wonyoung’s head snapped slightly in Yujin’s direction. The question felt so innocent, and yet somehow it isn’t.

 Yujin stilled for a moment, her lips parting as if weighing the question carefully. Then she looked over at Wonyoung — really looked. Her gaze didn’t hold the scolding fire of last night, nor the restrained exasperation. It was softer now. 

“I wasn’t mad,” Yujin said finally, her voice low. “I was just worried. And yes…” She turned back to the twins with a small smile. “I like Wonyoung again.” 

The twins squealed in delight, clapping their hands as if they’d just witnessed a magical truce being signed. Wonyoung blinked, her blush returning with full force. Yujin likes her again. Her chest fluttered, heart stammering beneath the surface. Why did that sentence hit differently? It shouldn’t matter — it was just about work, right? About trust. Professionalism. 

Then she caught Yujin watching her again. 

Yujin smirked, just a little, as she dipped a sweet potato fry slowly into the sauce, then brought it to her lips. The way she bit into it, the subtle swipe of her tongue to catch the sauce on the corner of her mouth — it felt deliberate. Like she was teasing her. 

Wonyoung’s throat went dry, and she gulped, hard. 

She quickly looked down at her plate, ears burning. She told herself she was imagining things. But she wasn’t. Yujin was looking at her like that again. 

***

The twins scurried off to the living room after dinner, still bubbling with post-surprise energy, their tiny feet thumping against the floorboards as they argued playfully about what to play next. Their laughter echoed down the hall, warm and grounding, like background music to the soft clinking of cutlery. 

In the kitchen, Wonyoung began stacking the dishes. She rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan and turned on the faucet, warm water pouring over the porcelain plates. She was halfway through rinsing when she felt a presence behind her. 

She turned slightly and blinked. "Oh— Miss An." 

Yujin stepped beside her, taking a dish towel in her hand. "You don’t have to do this alone." 

"I’ve got it," Wonyoung smiled. "You’re the one who had a long day." 

"Mm," Yujin hummed, taking a plate and drying it anyway. “You’re not in charge of my meals, Wonyoung. But… thank you. That was really good.” 

Wonyoung’s heart warmed, but she kept her hands busy. “I just noticed you usually eat late. Or not at all. There’s always takeout in the bin when I clean.” 

Yujin gave a soft laugh. “That’s because I usually get home after dinner. Eating alone isn’t very motivating.” 

Wonyoung paused, eyes flickering toward her. “That won’t happen again.” 

Yujin raised a brow. “Oh?” 

“I mean…” Wonyoung nudged a spoon into the drying rack and smiled, softly. “I’ll make sure there’s a warm dinner for you every night. Even if you’re late.” 

Yujin turned to look at her then, surprised.

“You don’t have to,” she said, her voice a little lower now. “Your job is with the kids.” 

“I want to,” Wonyoung said simply. She didn’t even hesitate. 

There was a moment of silence, as if the kitchen itself leaned in to listen. 

Then, Wonyoung glanced at her again, eyes dancing. “Besides, it’s good practice. I need to get used to your taste. It’ll help me become a better cook.” 

Yujin finally laughed — a real one this time, and the sound made something flutter deep in Wonyoung’s chest. “Right,” Yujin said, shaking her head with that lopsided grin. “So it’s for purely professional growth?” 

Wonyoung giggled under her breath. “Can be both.”

They worked side by side in easy rhythm — Wonyoung washing, Yujin drying. At some point, their arms brushed as they both reached for the same pan. Fingers grazed. Neither pulled away too quickly. 

“So…” Wonyoung said after a beat, glancing sideways. “I didn’t imagine you as someone who do dishes.” 

Yujin gave her a mock look of offense. “I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I didn’t say incapable,” Wonyoung smirked. “Just… you know. Executive. Cold. Very busy and important.” 

Yujin dried another plate, lips twitching. “I don’t enjoy it. But this house…” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s been less stiff lately. More alive.” 

Wonyoung looked at her. “The twins make everything alive.” 

Yujin tilted her head slightly. “Them, yes. But… so do you.” 

Wonyoung froze for a breath. Her heart gave a quiet, treacherous skip. 

But when she glanced up, Yujin was already focused on the next dish. Like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just said something that would replay in Wonyoung’s head for hours. 

Wonyoung swallowed, hiding the way her fingers suddenly felt clumsy with soap. 

Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just a compliment. A passing observation. 

Still… her skin burned a little where their arms had brushed. And she knew, without turning, that Yujin’s shoulder was still just barely brushing hers. 

***

Later that night, the penthouse had settled into a quiet calm. Wonyoung helped the twins with their bath, the bathroom warm with steam and giggles. When it was Jinu’s turn, as she dried his hair with a towel, he turned his head and Wonyoung paused. On the side of his scalp, partly hidden by damp strands, she spotted a faint scar. Another one curved along his upper arm. 

Her heart tugged. Jinu was always so lively, so fearless — climbing, jumping, tumbling. Maybe they were just childhood scrapes, the kind that fade into stories. But still... she found herself gently smoothing his hair over it, protective in a way she hadn't expected to be so soon. 

Once the twins were dried and changed, Wonyoung tucked them into bed, pulling the soft blankets over their small bodies. Jinu yawned and curled toward his stuffed puppy. Hyunseo sleepily reached out for Wonyoung’s hand. 

“Goodnight, Wonyoung unnie,” Hyunseo murmured. 

“Night night,” Jinu mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut. 

Wonyoung kissed each of their foreheads. “Goodnight, angels. Your mommy will be here in a minute.” 

She waited a moment longer, letting the warmth linger before quietly exiting. As she walked back to her own room, she caught a glimpse of Yujin’s bedroom door, slightly ajar. No sign of her yet. Probably still in her office. 

After her own quick shower, Wonyoung changed into a soft nightgown, her hair damp and falling around her shoulders. The night felt unusually still. She glanced at the small gift box sitting on her vanity — the wellness kit. A quiet, thoughtful offering. And maybe… a little bold. 

On impulse, she brewed a cup of chamomile tea. With the tea in one hand and the gift tucked under her arm, she padded down the hall toward Yujin’s office. The soft glow from beneath the door told her Yujin was still awake. 

She raised her hand and knocked lightly. 

“Come in,” Yujin’s voice called.

Wonyoung opened the door slowly. 

Yujin was at her desk, wearing a deep navy nightgown that contrasted against her skin, her hair loose around her shoulders. A half-empty champagne flute sat beside her laptop. She looked tired, maybe even a little withdrawn — until she saw Wonyoung. 

Her eyes lit up. “Wonyoung.” 

“I, um… brought you tea,” Wonyoung said, stepping inside. “It might be nicer than alcohol this late, Miss An.” 

Yujin’s lips quirked up as she leaned back in her chair. “How thoughtful.” She reached for the cup. “Thank you.” 

Wonyoung set the cup down on the table and then hesitantly held out the gift box. “And this… is for you.” 

Yujin arched a brow as she accepted it. “Ah, the old woman’s gift,” she teased. 

Wonyoung laughed, flushing slightly. “Don’t blame me. The twins said it first.”

 Yujin untied the ribbon and opened the lid. Inside was the wellness kit — aromatherapy roll-on, a cooling silk eye mask, and a bottle of massage oil. Her fingers brushed over each item, her expression unreadable for a moment. 

“This is…” she trailed off, then smiled faintly. “Surprisingly thoughtful.” 

“I just thought you might like something to help you unwind,” Wonyoung said, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown. “You always seem so… tense.” 

Yujin looked up at her with a wry tilt of her head. “Is that your professional nanny assessment?” 

“Just an observation,” Wonyoung said lightly. Then added, “You’re welcome, Miss An.” 

Yujin gave her a look. “You can call me Yujin.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “Really?” 

Yujin nodded. “Every time you say ‘Miss An,’ I feel like I’m one meeting away from retirement.” 

Wonyoung laughed, biting her lower lip. “Alright then… Yujin.” 

The sound of her name on Wonyoung’s lips made Yujin’s smile deepen, her dimples appearing in that quiet, disarming way. 

“That’s better,” she said, leaning back again. 

She reached for the massage oil, rolling the bottle between her fingers. “You know, it’s been forever since I’ve had a proper massage.” 

Wonyoung hesitated. Then, before she could overthink it, she said, “Would you like one now?” 

Yujin looked at her, surprised. 

“I mean,” Wonyoung rushed to say, “I’m not an expert or anything. But… I can help. Maybe just your shoulders? You seemed really tense earlier.” 

The silence that followed was charged.

Yujin tilted her head slightly, watching Wonyoung closely. “Alright, I’m curious how many more talents do you have,” she said, voice low, “just shoulders.” 

Wonyoung exhaled, half a breath of relief, half anticipation, and stepped behind the chair. 

Her hands hovered for a second before gently resting on Yujin’s shoulders. The silk of her nightgown dipped as she leaned forward, letting her fingertips find the tight spots along Yujin’s upper back. 

Yujin closed her eyes briefly. 

“Cold hands,” she murmured. 

“Sorry,” Wonyoung whispered. 

She warmed her palms against each other before pressing down again, slowly kneading into the stiffness. Yujin’s shoulders gradually relaxed beneath her touch. 

Wonyoung bit the inside of her cheek to focus, not on how warm Yujin’s skin was, not on the curve of her neck, not on the rising hum between them. 

“This okay?” she asked softly. 

Yujin hummed. “Feels better than okay.” 

Wonyoung’s hands moved in slow, careful motions across Yujin’s shoulders, but her own body was anything but relaxed. Her fingertips brushed smooth skin warmed by the quiet heat of the office, and yet her pulse raced like she was about to be caught doing something she shouldn’t. The longer she touched Yujin, the more flustered she became. Was she pressing too hard? Not enough? Did Yujin even like this? 

Her thumbs circled along the knots in Yujin’s upper back, but her mind was spiraling. 

She didn’t even realize she had stopped moving until Yujin spoke. 

“You’re tense,” Yujin said, her voice quiet, head tilted slightly. “You don’t have to be.” 

Wonyoung laughed nervously. “Sorry… I just— I don’t know if I’m doing it right.” 

A pause. Then— 

“Would you like a demonstration?” 

Wonyoung blinked. “What?” 

“I mean,” Yujin turned to look up at her with that calm, unreadable expression, “so you’ll know how it’s supposed to feel.” 

Wonyoung hesitated. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. “Y-Yeah,” she said. “Sure.” 

Yujin rose from the chair and gestured for Wonyoung to take her place. Wonyoung sat slowly, her palms pressed to her knees, nerves dancing under her skin. This felt… suddenly very real. 

Yujin stepped behind her. Her presence at Wonyoung’s back was warm and commanding. Without asking, she gently tugged the wide neckline of Wonyoung’s nightgown off her shoulder. The soft fabric slid down one side, baring her upper back to the cool air. 

Wonyoung stiffened instinctively. 

They’re both women, she told herself. There’s no reason to panic. 

But Yujin’s touch wasn’t careless or casual — it was sensual. Confident. Like she knew exactly what effect it would have. 

Wonyoung’s thoughts spiraled: Yujin’s skin is so much nicer. Yujin probably dates models now for fun. What is she doing showing her bare back in front of her boss? 

Her mind was racing… until Yujin’s fingers touched her. 

There was a soft sound of the massage oil bottle clicking open, the faint herbal scent rising between them. Then, Yujin’s palms — warm, slick with oil — pressed gently at the tops of Wonyoung’s shoulders and began to glide down in smooth, expert strokes. 

Wonyoung sucked in a breath. 

“Relax,” Yujin said softly, her lips close to Wonyoung’s ear. 

Wonyoung nodded mutely, her eyes fluttering closed as Yujin’s hands moved with firm, slow precision. The pads of her thumbs dug gently into muscle, rolling tension away in even waves. She worked along the curve of Wonyoung’s neck, down to the ridges of her shoulder blades. 

And Wonyoung — despite her best effort to stay composed — let out a soft, involuntary sound. Almost a moan. Her cheeks immediately turned red. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, mortified. “Sorry—” 

Yujin didn’t stop. Her tone stayed composed, maybe even a little pleased. “I’m good at this.” 

Wonyoung covered her face with her hands. “You really are.” 

Yujin let out a small laugh — deep, velvet-soft, amused. 

“Feel that?” she asked, pressing gently into the center of her back. 

Wonyoung tried to keep still, but it was impossible. The moment Yujin’s thumbs pressed into a pressure point near her shoulder blades, a shaky, breathy sound escaped her lips before she could bite it back. 

“Mmmnh—” 

Yujin paused. “Did you just moan?” She said, half-laughing. 

“No!” Wonyoung protested a little too fast, her voice muffled by her palm. “That was just a… a very intense exhale.” 

“Hmm,” Yujin murmured, clearly entertained. “Right.” 

But she didn’t stop. In fact, she pressed in again, slow and intentional, fingers moving with practiced ease along the tight muscles of Wonyoung’s upper back. 

Another sound slipped out. This one almost a whimper. 

Wonyoung’s eyes flew open. “Oh my god. I swear I’m not doing this on purpose.” 

“Sure you’re not,” Yujin said, the corner of her mouth twitching as she worked. “Guess I’m just really good at this.” 

“You don’t have to act like you’re proud of it,” Wonyoung muttered, though her voice was going softer, almost dazed. 

“I’m not proud,” Yujin replied casually. “I’m just observant. And apparently, I’ve found the Wonyoung Button.” 

Wonyoung choked on a laugh. “Stop calling it that!” 

“I mean—” Yujin’s thumbs rolled over the spot again, slow and firm. Another soft, delicious moan fell from Wonyoung’s lips before she could stop it. Yujin grinned. “—it works every time.” 

“Okay, okay!” Wonyoung shrunk into herself, mortified and melting all at once. “You’re banned. This is bullying.” 

“Mm. Doesn’t sound like bullying.” Yujin’s tone dropped half an octave, playful but edged with something a little deeper. “Sounds like you’re enjoying it.” 

Wonyoung buried her face in her hands again. “You are a menace.” 

“I’m helping your stress levels.” 

“You’re raising them.” 

Yujin chuckled. But her touch softened then, turning into gentler strokes along Wonyoung’s spine, her palms dragging lightly in long, soothing motions. It was quieter now, slower. Still warm, still intimate — but more tender. 

Wonyoung exhaled. This time, it really was a sigh. 

“Better?” 

Wonyoung nodded, letting her hands fall from her face. “I… yeah. That was… good.” 

Yujin leaned slightly closer, breath brushing against Wonyoung’s temple. “No more moaning?” 

Wonyoung gave a weak laugh. “Don’t tempt me.” 

“I wasn’t,” Yujin said, her voice smooth, unreadable. “But maybe I should.” 

Before Wonyoung could react to that — before she could even fully register what Yujin’s tone meant — Yujin’s fingers found that same spot again. That knot at the back of her shoulder, just where neck met back. And she pressed — firm, slow, deliberate. 

Wonyoung gasped softly, her whole body tensing with the spark of sensation. Her head dipped slightly forward from the sheer pleasure of it. 

But then — Yujin didn’t stop there. 

Her hands glided — glided — upward, warm palms smoothing along the curve of Wonyoung’s neck, thumbs brushing gently just beneath the base of her hairline. The touch was light, but it sent an involuntary shiver tearing down Wonyoung’s spine like a chill breeze laced with fire. Her breath hitched, skin breaking into goosebumps. 

Her hands gripped the armrest. She couldn’t breathe. 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened as she sat ramrod straight in the chair. Her skin buzzed, prickled — chilled and burning at the same time. And to her absolute horror, she could feel it: a rush of warmth, a flush crawling over her chest, and— 

Oh god. Her nipples. 

They tightened under her thin sleepwear, betraying her completely. She swallowed hard, thankful her back was turned, because there was no hiding that. 

Yujin hadn’t said a word, but Wonyoung could feel her smirking behind her. That devilish, deep-dimpled smirk she wore whenever she knew she had the upper hand. 

“You okay?” Yujin’s voice was innocently casual, which somehow made it worse. 

“I’m fine,” Wonyoung croaked. “Perfect. Great. Normal.” 

“And your skin is turning red.” 

“I am not.” 

“Should I stop?” 

Wonyoung hesitated. “…Yes. No. I mean— yes. Please stop. Or I’m going to combust.” 

Yujin pulled her hands away gently, a final glide along Wonyoung’s shoulder blades that left a warm trail behind. 

“I’m usually a solo act,” Yujin said softly after a pause, still massaging. “But this… is nice.” 

Wonyoung managed a shaky breath. “What is?” 

“Having someone care enough to offer comfort back.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes opened slowly. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It sounded simple, but it was heavy with meaning. 

Yujin’s hands slowed, then stopped. She reached for a towel and gently patted away the excess oil on Wonyoung’s back before slipping the gown back up onto her shoulders. 

“There,” Yujin murmured. 

Wonyoung turned her head to look up at her. 

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Wonyoung whispered. “A lot.” 

Yujin stepped back, just a little. Her composure returning. “Thank you for the tea,” she said. 

Wonyoung stood slowly, still holding her breath. “Goodnight, Yujin.” 

“Goodnight, Wonyoung.” 

She left the office, her heart pounding, her skin still tingling from Yujin’s touch. 

***

Wonyoung shut her door and pressed her back against it like someone had just chased her in. 

Silence. 

Then— 

“Oh my god,” she whispered. 

She slapped both palms over her face, still feeling the ghost of Yujin’s hands on her back. The way those strong fingers had pressed into her shoulders, glided around her neck — that one press behind her ear? Immediate full-body shiver. Not to mention how her traitorous mouth kept letting out sounds she didn’t even know she could make. 

Moaning. Moaning. Not once. Not twice. Like five times! 

“For a massage!” she hissed to herself, sliding down the door into a crouch, mortified and… still slightly breathless. 

Her skin was still tingling. Her back? Warm. Her front? Embarrassingly responsive. Her nipples had definitely betrayed her somewhere around the second glide of Yujin’s thumb. 

“What if she noticed? Oh my god, what if she noticed?” She buried her face in her hands. “I literally just moaned under my boss’ touch like she was— like she was—!” Her brain refused to finish the sentence. It just looped back to the moment Yujin had leaned close and whispered, if she should tempt her.

Wonyoung groaned and threw herself backward onto her bed, limbs sprawled like she’d just run a marathon. Her hair fanned across the pillow dramatically. 

“She could’ve slid her hands under my shirt and I—I probably wouldn’t have stopped her,” she whispered to her ceiling in horror. “Who am I?!” 

Yujin. Was. A. Woman. 

A hot, ridiculously attractive, dimples-should-be-illegal woman… who also happened to be her boss. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not after Wonyoung had already promised herself to be professional. Not after she agreed to not fangirl over the An Yujin anymore. 

And yet here she was panting over a massage like some lovesick fool in a romance novel. She felt like she needed to take another shower. A cold one. 

“But like,” she muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling, “what if she offered again?” 

Her heart did a little thump. 

“No. Nope. No no no. I need to sleep.” She pulled her blanket up to her chin, face still flushed. “I’m not thinking about her hands. Or her voice. Or her stupid smirk. Or how good she smelled.” 

A pause.

“…Ugh.” 

 

Chapter 5: evening routine

The morning sunlight poured into the penthouse. Wonyoung moved efficiently through the kitchen, still a little dazed from sleep, tying her hair into a loose ponytail as the smell of eggs and toast filled the air. The twins were yawning at the dining table, their tiny heads barely above their cereal bowls, still in their pajamas. 

She plated eggs and sweet toast on two small plates — cut into shapes just how the twins liked — and then, remembering her words from the night before, she prepared another plate. Toast, scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and half an avocado. She even poured fresh orange juice and ground the coffee beans herself. 

She wasn’t going to half-ass a promise. 

As she placed the extra plate on the table, she muttered under her breath, “This is ridiculous, you’re not her personal chef,” and yet she couldn’t help but add a small bowl of fruit and push the mug closer to the empty seat at the head of the table. 

And then — that voice. 

“Good morning,” came Yujin’s low, silky tone from the hallway. 

Wonyoung stiffened. Instantly. 

Her hand froze mid-air as she was wiping down the counter. She didn’t need to turn to know that Yujin was already walking into the kitchen in that effortlessly confident way she always had — today in a navy pantsuit, hair loosely tied back, and skin glowing with minimal effort. Wonyoung could practically feel her presence at her back like heat from the sun. 

“G-Good morning,” she replied without turning. She hoped her voice sounded calm. It didn’t. 

She focused on the dishes. The countertop. Anything but turning around and facing the woman whose touch still haunted her spine. 

Yujin strolled into the room like she owned it — which, to be fair, she did and the twins instantly lit up. 

“Mommy!” Jinu called, a bit of toast still in his hand. 

“Morning, you two,” Yujin greeted, ruffling their hair as she passed by, settling into her seat. 

Then Jinu looked toward Wonyoung. “Wonyoung noona, sit with us!” 

“Yeah!” Hyunseo echoed brightly, grinning. “Sit with Mommy!” 

Wonyoung almost dropped her spatula. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m just—” 

“Sit,” Yujin said smoothly, her eyes flicking up to her. “I don’t bite.” 

The twins burst into giggles. 

Wonyoung’s entire body heated up from neck to ears. She met Yujin’s gaze — just for a second and that little smirk on the older woman’s lips nearly sent her spiraling. 

She was going to combust. Right here. In front of the children. 

But she nodded, quietly wiped her hands, and walked to the table with what she hoped was composure. She sat beside the twins, across from Yujin, avoiding looking directly at her. 

Yujin took a sip of the orange juice and raised an eyebrow. “You’re spoiling me now.” 

“It’s… just breakfast,” Wonyoung mumbled, eyes glued to her toast. 

“Mm.” Yujin took a bite of her eggs. “Still. Not many people cook for me.” 

Wonyoung’s cheeks were flaming. She could feel it. 

Jinu happily chewed on toast. “Wonyoung noona’s food is the best! Mommy should eat her food every day!” 

“Oh?” Yujin glanced at Wonyoung again, this time a bit playfully. “Should I?” 

Wonyoung nearly dropped her fork. She didn’t reply. 

And so, breakfast passed peacefully — at least for everyone else. 

The twins giggled and chattered between mouthfuls, occasionally clinking their glasses of milk together like they were at a royal banquet. Yujin ate quietly, stealing little glances at the pink creeping up Wonyoung’s neck every time their knees brushed under the table or when she asked her to pass something. 

To the casual eye, it was a simple, domestic morning. 

But to Wonyoung? 

It was a battlefield. One filled with the echo of her own moans from the night before, the memory of Yujin’s fingers pressing into her skin, and that maddening smirk that made her want to either run out of the penthouse or slam her head into the countertop just to calm down. 

She avoided eye contact like her life depended on it. 

And yet — somehow — she’d never felt more awake. 

***

The evening had fallen gently over the city. Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was anything but calm. 

The twins were in full evening mode — meaning: post-bath hyper energy. Still in their pajamas, with slightly damp hair and mischievous smiles, they were chasing each other through the living room like little hurricanes. Jinu had a throw pillow raised like a shield, and Hyunseo was armed with a plush bunny like it was a weapon. Wonyoung sat on the edge of the couch, warning them softly, “No running,” for the fifth time. 

“Unnie, we’re being careful!” Hyunseo chirped as she ducked under Jinu’s pillow. 

That declaration was followed immediately by the crash of ceramic and glass. 

The sound snapped through the penthouse like lightning. 

Everyone froze. 

Wonyoung’s head whipped around. On the floor near the hallway table, the large porcelain vase — the one with the blue cranes Yujin had mentioned once was an antique was now in shards, shattered into glittering pieces across the marble tile. 

The twins stared, eyes wide, mouths open. 

Yujin appeared from her office almost instantly, hair down, holding her tablet. She looked at the mess, then at the kids. 

There was a long beat of silence. 

Then Jinu’s lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry, Mommy…” 

Hyunseo added quickly, “It was an accident…” 

Yujin exhaled slowly. “It’s okay,” she said, her tone gentle. “No one’s hurt, right?” 

The twins shook their heads. 

“Good. But go to your room for now, okay? Be careful walking, there’s glass everywhere.” 

The twins obeyed instantly, slipping past the mess and padding to their room without another word. Guilt was heavy on their little faces. 

Wonyoung was already crouching down carefully, picking up the bigger pieces. “That was really close. Thank god they didn’t get hurt—” 

“Careful,” Yujin said quickly, walking over, eyes narrowing. 

“It’s fine, I’m—ow.” 

A sharp sting bloomed in her finger. 

She looked down to see a small but angry cut, already bleeding. 

“Wonyoung,” Yujin scolded softly, immediately stepping forward. “Don’t move.” 

“It’s just a little—” 

“Don’t move,” Yujin repeated, more firmly now, setting her tablet aside. She disappeared into the storage cabinet, returning seconds later with a dustpan, broom, and the med kit. 

Wonyoung remained crouched, her cheeks red not just from the sting but from the embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be clumsy…” 

“You weren’t,” Yujin said as she swept expertly, gathering the shards into the pan with quick movements. “You just shouldn’t be touching glass with bare hands. Especially not for a broken vase that wasn’t even your fault.” 

Once the floor was clear, Yujin set the dustpan aside and knelt in front of Wonyoung, opening the med kit with one hand while taking her wrist with the other. 

Wonyoung looked down at their hands. Yujin’s touch was gentle. She disinfected the small cut with a cotton pad, blowing softly on the sting when Wonyoung flinched. 

The room had grown quiet again, save for the soft sounds of distant city traffic through the window. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Wonyoung murmured. 

“You cooked me dinner. You take care of my children. You’re allowed to bleed in my penthouse without cleaning your own wound.” 

Wonyoung chuckled, a little sheepishly. “That sounds… oddly generous.” 

“I’m an oddly generous woman,” Yujin replied, not looking up as she placed a small bandage on Wonyoung’s finger. “At least to people I like.” 

Wonyoung’s breath caught. 

The way Yujin said it — so casually, like she was just stating a fact — made her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. There was no smirk this time. No teasing. Just sincerity. 

Their eyes met. 

Wonyoung offered the faintest smile. “You’re… nicer than you pretend to be.” 

Yujin raised an eyebrow, finally letting go of her hand. “Don’t ruin my image.” 

“I won’t,” Wonyoung promised, and then after a beat, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. You’re bleeding. That’s enough punishment for the night.” 

They both sat there for a moment, on the marble floor beside the now - empty hallway table, bathed in the warm glow of the pendant lights. It was mundane. A little messy. Quiet. 

But intimate in the most unexpected way. 

“Do you want me to make you tea?” Wonyoung asked after a pause. 

“Only if you’re having some.” 

“I will.” 

Yujin stood first and reached down, offering her hand to Wonyoung. She took it. 

***

The penthouse was unusually quiet once the twins had been dropped off at school. Wonyoung was finishing up the dishes when Yujin stepped into the kitchen, dressed sharply in a muted gray blazer over a silky cream blouse.

 “Do you have any plans today?” Yujin asked, sipping the last of her black coffee. 

Wonyoung shook her head. “Besides laundry and maybe baking cookies for the twins? Nothing exciting.” 

Yujin nodded slowly, then said with casual confidence, “Come with me to work.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “Work? Me?” 

Yujin smirked, dimples flashing. “Just for a bit. I have a tasting at one of the restaurants we invested in. New menu. I could use a second opinion.” 

There was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes — challenge, maybe, or curiosity. Wonyoung hesitated only a second before nodding, her heart racing a little. “I’d love to.” 

***

They arrived at the restaurant around late morning — a sleek, modern space tucked away in a quiet alley of Gangnam, not yet open to the public for the day. A few chefs were already bustling in the kitchen, prepping tasting plates. 

“This place is trying a modern Korean twist,” Yujin explained as they were led to a private booth near the open kitchen. “They’re trying to impress our company. I haven’t tasted anything yet.” 

Wonyoung was practically glowing — half from the elegance of the experience, half from the fact that she was standing beside Yujin in a world she’d only ever dreamed of glimpsing. Her dream wasn’t exactly restaurant investment — but food, creativity, curation? This was as close as it had ever felt. 

They sat down at the booth as the first course was served — a reimagined kimchi jjigae turned into a delicate consommé with aged tofu croutons and a crispy rice garnish. 

Wonyoung tasted it, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Well?” Yujin asked, folding her arms and leaning back to observe. “Be honest. You’re not here to flatter me.” 

“It’s… interesting,” Wonyoung said slowly, twirling the spoon. “But the broth feels thin. It has that depth of fermentation, but not enough warmth. I feel like it got too refined — like they lost the soul of it.” 

Yujin tilted her head, watching her. “What would you change?” 

Wonyoung paused, flushed. “I’d add some toasted perilla seed powder to ground it. And maybe bring in a smoked element — like a charred radish or some smoked brisket chips. Something bolder to contrast the delicacy.” 

Yujin blinked slowly, her lips twitching into a smile. “You thought about that fast.” 

“You said be honest,” Wonyoung said, smiling shyly, suddenly very aware that her opinion might’ve been too much. 

“I like it,” Yujin said after a long pause. “You have a better palate than some of our actual consultants.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

Yujin chuckled softly, sipping water. “You’re not afraid to say something’s missing. That matters more than knowing the right vocabulary.” 

Another dish came — deconstructed tteokbokki with parmesan tuile and squid ink glaze. Wonyoung tried it, frowning thoughtfully. 

Yujin watched her, still not eating. “Well?” 

“This is pretty, but…” Wonyoung hesitated, chewing slowly. “It doesn’t feel comforting. It’s trying too hard.” 

Yujin let out a laugh. “God, that’s exactly what I was going to say.” 

Wonyoung smiled with relief. 

As the tasting went on, the mood eased. They laughed between bites, Wonyoung becoming more confident in her words, Yujin asking more questions, curious about how Wonyoung’s instincts worked. She seemed to be… evaluating her. Not harshly, but as though seeing her in a new light. 

When the chef stepped away to check the next dish, Yujin leaned back against the booth, letting her head fall slightly to the side. 

“You know,” she said softly, “I used to hate tastings.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “What? Why?” 

Yujin was quiet for a beat. “When I was younger, before I had any say in this company — I was forced to do them. Smile, give praise, memorize flavor profiles. I wasn’t allowed to dislike anything.” 

Wonyoung turned to her fully, the buzz of the kitchen fading. “That sounds awful.” 

“It was,” Yujin said, eyes flickering toward the window. “I think it’s why I got so picky now. I had to swallow so many things I hated. I promised myself if I ever made it… I’d only eat what I love.” 

Wonyoung’s voice came out softer than she expected. “Is that why you wanted my opinion today?” 

Yujin turned to her, a small, unreadable smile on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to spend a few hours with someone who reminds me what sincerity tastes like.” 

Wonyoung flushed, stunned into silence. 

Just then, the chef returned, apologizing for the delay. 

But Wonyoung couldn’t focus anymore — her heart was drumming in her ears. She stared at the new plate, but her mind stayed on that one line. 

Someone who reminds me what sincerity tastes like. 

***

After the last dish at the restaurant was cleared and the chefs thanked them for their feedback, Wonyoung followed Yujin out into the soft light of the afternoon. The test kitchen still lingered in her mind — stainless steel counters, sharp critiques, playful jabs between bites — but now the mood had changed. 

They slid into the back seat of Yujin’s car, Bongsan already at the wheel. Yujin shifted to face her slightly.

“Since you’ve decided to cook for me now,” she said, “I figured I should treat you to something good too.” 
 
Wonyoung blinked, a little caught off guard by the softness in Yujin’s voice — and even more by the word treat. “Me?” she said, voice lighter, teasing. “You’re treating your nanny-slash-chef now?” 

Yujin scoffed, the corner of her lips twitching into a knowing smile. “You're not just anything. You're Wonyoung.” 

And just like that, Wonyoung’s heart skipped. Again. 

***

Bongsan dropped them off in front of a quiet, understated building near Yujin’s office — its exterior was simple, tucked between glassy boutiques and polished cafés. Nothing flashy. But the moment the hostess saw Yujin step through the sliding doors, she bowed with recognition and led them in without a word of wait. 

A private room was already prepared. Sliding doors, soft mats on the floor, dark wood with delicate brass detailing. Wonyoung stepped in slowly, the scent of grilled fish, soy, and sesame already wafting through the air. The table was low, beautifully set — the kind of place you’d bring someone you wanted to share silence with, not just food. 

As they sat down, Yujin looked around for a brief moment, then murmured, “I don’t get to eat like this often anymore.” 

Wonyoung turned her eyes to her. “Really? I thought you’d be eating this kind of food all the time…” 

Yujin shook her head slowly, fingers gently brushing the side of her tea cup. “When my grandmother was alive, she used to make this kind of food. That was… before life got too fast.” She paused. “Before everything became about expectations and performance. I guess I associate han-jeongsik with something... peaceful. It reminds me of home when I was still allowed to be a kid.” 

Wonyoung’s chest ached, unexpectedly. There was something about the way Yujin said allowed — as if childhood was something that had been gently, quietly stolen from her. 

Yujin craved home. Not the penthouse kind. Not the kind with imported marble and Michelin reservations. But the kind that smells like soy-braised beef. That offers second servings without asking. That tells you to breathe. 

Wonyoung softened. 

This woman, who seemed so put-together all the time, wanted this. The ordinary, unglamorous warmth of a traditional meal.

And Wonyoung — who grew up in a simple home, helping her grandmother stir jjigae and slice scallions — suddenly felt like she had something Yujin didn’t. Something Yujin missed. 

The staff began bringing in the courses one by one — warm rice, grilled fish, tangy kimchi, various namul, delicate jeon. Everything was plated humbly, like it wasn’t meant to impress — just to be eaten, slowly, gratefully. 

Yujin looked relaxed. Shoulders looser. Her hair a bit more undone now that she’d let herself slip out of “boss mode.” Wonyoung watched her — the way she appreciated each bite. The way she hummed softly at the gamja-jorim. There was something unguarded about her here.

“You really like this, huh?” Wonyoung asked gently. 

Yujin looked up, eyes meeting hers across the table.
“More than I should.” Then a small smile. “But I guess when you grow up around gold-plated everything, you start to miss brass.” 

And Wonyoung smiled back, feeling something settle between them — a new kind of intimacy that had nothing to do with touches or teasing. This was different. This was the kind that made you want to cook someone’s favorite soup when they were sick. The kind that made you want to hear about their childhood. The kind that made you think: 

I want to be someone’s comfort. 

And she was starting to think — maybe she wanted to be Yujin’s. 

The low clink of chopsticks and the warmth of steamed rice hung in the space between them. Wonyoung looked down for a moment, her spoon pushing around the side dishes on her tray like she was hesitating — and then, softly, she spoke. 

“When I was little, I used to help my grandmother a lot in the kitchen.” 

Yujin lifted her gaze from her bowl, drawn instantly by the shift in Wonyoung’s voice. 

“She wasn’t a professional chef or anything,” Wonyoung added with a smile, “but she had this small bakery. Just a little neighborhood one. I was always there after school — mixing batter, decorating cookies, sneaking tastes when she wasn’t looking. That was our thing. That’s where I learned to love food.” 

Yujin blinked slowly, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest. Of course. So that’s why she was so stubborn about the baking thing. So passionate about every little detail. It wasn’t just ambition — it was memory. Personal. Love. 

Yujin rested her elbow against the table, cheek on her palm as she watched Wonyoung talk, listening in the way people do when they forget to interrupt. 

“My parents weren’t really into cooking,” Wonyoung continued. “They worked a lot. They’d come home late. I spent most of my time with grandma. I even brought her bread to school sometimes.” 

Yujin smiled faintly, eyes crinkling. “I feel robbed. I want to try your grandma’s bread.” 

Wonyoung laughed, but the sound came with a touch of sadness. She glanced down at her tray again, eyes soft. “She passed away when I was in high school.” 

Yujin’s expression gentled, the teasing retreating into silence. 

“After she died, there was no one to run the bakery. My parents didn’t care for it — it wasn’t profitable, or practical, I guess. I couldn’t do anything at the time, I was still a student. They sold it. Just like that.” She paused. “And that was… hard.” 

Yujin watched her carefully. The way Wonyoung’s shoulders stiffened even though her tone stayed level. The kind of restraint people learn after they've had to explain their pain too many times. 

“I think that’s when I started drifting from them,” Wonyoung said quietly. “They still sent money for school. They checked in from time to time. But we don’t talk much anymore. It’s not really cold, just… distant. You know?” 

Yujin nodded, understanding too well. 

“I actually tried to get into culinary school,” Wonyoung added with a small, wistful chuckle. “Got in. But the tuition was way too high, and I couldn’t keep up after a year. So I switched courses. But I never stopped cooking. Not really.” She glanced up, meeting Yujin’s eyes. “I guess I’ve always just… held onto the dream. That maybe someday, I could have my own place. Pick up where grandma left off. Or maybe even build something bigger.” 

And something about the way she said it — soft but steady, like she’d said it to herself a hundred times to keep the flame alive — made Yujin’s heart ache. 

There was no dramatics, no pleas for sympathy. Just a quiet resilience. 

Yujin leaned back slightly in her seat, exhaling through her nose. “So this isn’t just about pastry.” 

Wonyoung shook her head, a small, honest smile forming.
“Nope. It’s about remembering her. And proving to myself I can finish what she started.” 

For a moment, Yujin didn’t speak. She just looked at her — really looked — not as a part-timer, or the twins’ nanny, or even the girl who made her laugh over sweet potato fries …but as someone with so much passion. Someone brave enough to still believe in it. 

Yujin swallowed, her voice softer than before. “You will get it, Wonyoung.” 

Wonyoung met her eyes, a little surprised by the gentleness.
“The bakery?” 

“The dream.” Yujin smiled, and this time it wasn’t a teasing smirk or a confident grin. “I think even now your grandma would be proud of you already.” 

Wonyoung flushed. Her lips parted, but no words came. For once, she couldn’t joke, couldn’t hide behind sass or laughter. Her heart swelled so quickly she had to look away. 

Yujin picked up her cup and sipped quietly, gaze lingering on the younger woman across from her. 

With both women having shared something quietly significant over their traditional han-jeongsik lunch, the air between them had shifted. Not dramatically, not with thunder or fireworks — but in the kind of subtle, meaningful way that sticks. There was a certain softness now, a silent understanding that hadn’t been there before. Their conversations had peeled away just enough of their layers to leave something tender in its place. Neither of them rushed to fill the silence as they sipped the last of their tea — comfortable now in simply being in each other’s presence. 

Yujin glanced at her watch and leaned back slightly. “It’s almost one,” she said. “We still have some time before the kids get out of school… Do you want to come by the office with me? I have to approve some renovation sets for a new restaurant concept we’re working on.” 

Wonyoung blinked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Am I your personal chef and your secretary now?” she teased, lips curving into a smile. 

Yujin grinned. “Is that a complaint?”

Wonyoung shrugged, eyes playful. “Secret.” 

They took the car back to the building — Bongsan, ever silently competent, drove while the two of them shared quiet conversation in the backseat. The city passed them in slow motion. From time to time, Wonyoung glanced sideways at Yujin, still processing how different she seemed outside the house. She was still sharp, still composed — but there was something more grounded here. Less distance. A version of Yujin that smiled more often. That asked questions and genuinely listened. 

When they arrived at the sleek high-rise that housed Yujin’s office, Wonyoung followed her through the glass doors and up the elevator. She had only ever dropped the twins off or waited by the car — never actually stepped inside since she was hired, now she was a guest. Something about being invited into Yujin’s workspace felt… intimate.

As they stepped into the creative wing, a familiar voice called out. “Wonyoung?” 

Wonyoung turned and instantly brightened. “Hanni!” 

Hanni crossed her arms, raising her brows with a grin. “Look at you. Following the boss around now, huh?” she teased. “You on the payroll or just charming your way into our department?” 

Yujin glanced between them, amused. “You two know each other?” 

“Yujin, she’s the reason I ever even found Project En Mise in the first place,” Wonyoung said with a grin. “Hanni basically dragged me into applying for that pop-up pastry slot. And she was the one who told me about the nanny opening, too.” 

“Best decision I ever made,” Hanni said proudly. “Now the twins are in safe hands.” 

Yujin chuckled. “Well, she’s been very useful.” Then to Wonyoung, “Come on, let’s make you more useful.” 

Wonyoung smiled at at Hanni before following Yujin into her office, and Hanni winked back. 

Inside, the office was spacious but not cold glass walls, soft wood accents, and large print boards arranged neatly around a long table. Swatches of fabric, photos of interiors, even test samples for lighting setups were laid out. Yujin gestured to them. “This is the fun part — deciding how we want people to feel when they walk into a restaurant.” 

Wonyoung leaned over a layout with curiosity. “I didn’t realize how much went into this.” 

“Well, most people don’t,” Yujin said, watching her. “Which is why your input’s useful.” 

They worked through a few design mockups together, and Wonyoung’s reactions — quick, honest, even a little blunt made Yujin laugh. 

“This one makes me feel like I’m about to be scolded,” Wonyoung said, pointing at one minimalist black-on-black set. 

Yujin smirked. “Noted. Less funeral feel, more food.” 

They passed design sketches back and forth — talking about what made a restaurant feel like home, what textures reminded you of a good meal, what lighting softened people’s defenses. Wonyoung was a little amazed at how much Yujin cared. She wasn’t just signing off on things— she felt them, thought them through. 

But then, at 1:30, Yujin checked the time. “You should head out. Bongsan’s already waiting downstairs.” 

Wonyoung blinked, surprised at how fast the time flew. “Right, the twins.” 

Yujin walked her to the door. “Thanks for helping me today. I liked having you here.” 

Wonyoung smiled, touched. “Me too. It was kind of… exciting.” 

Yujin tilted her head slightly, that familiar smirk returning. “Let’s do it again sometime.” 

Wonyoung nodded, her smile growing. “See you later, Yujin.” 

As she stepped out into the hallway again, passing Hanni on the way, the other girl gave her a look full of amused curiosity. “First name basis now huh?,” her friend teased.

Wonyoung just grinned and waved, not offering a single explanation. 

***

Each day, Wonyoung and Yujin grew more comfortable with each other in the small, quiet details that no longer felt awkward. When Yujin came home from work a bit late — sometimes with shoulders slumped and hair slightly disheveled from a long day — she’d always find the twins already bathed and in their pajamas, eating neatly at the table, and Wonyoung there in the kitchen. 

Not eating. 

Not yet. 

Though she never said it aloud, Wonyoung had made it a habit not to join the kids for dinner on those days. She’d sit with them, ask about their day, making sure they ate their vegetables, sneaking them extra bites of dessert when they behaved but her plate stayed empty. Because in the back of her mind, she always saved herself for when Yujin came home. 

And Yujin noticed. 

The first time, she simply blinked and said, “You haven’t eaten?” 

Wonyoung, looking up from the kitchen counter where she was packing up leftovers, said with a small smile, “Figured it might be nicer if you didn’t eat alone.” 

Yujin had stared at her for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then softened with a rare smile. “I’ll shower quickly.” 

And so, it became their quiet ritual. 

Wonyoung would reheat the dishes, sometimes add a little garnish she didn’t have time for earlier, and they’d sit across from each other at the kitchen island — just the two of them. Yujin always offered feedback. At first, bluntly. Then, slowly, more conversational. 

“You should push the sesame note more in this.” 

“I like the spice level — was that gochugaru or fresh chili?” 

“You really used anchovy stock here? Impressive.” 

Each time, Wonyoung soaked it in like a student hanging onto a mentor’s words, and each time, she improved. 

Yujin began to look forward to her dinners — not just the food, but the presence. The way Wonyoung didn’t ask about her day unless Yujin offered it. The way the air felt easy. 

Even the twins had started to assume that if it was after 8 p.m., Mommy and Wonyoung would be having “grown-up dinner.” 

***

One Saturday afternoon, after a particularly hands-on pastry lesson in her part-time culinary class, Wonyoung met up with Hanni at a cozy café tucked in a quiet corner of Seongsu. 

The place had old brick walls, dried flowers hanging upside down by the window, and the soft scent of cinnamon and roasted beans curling in the air. Wonyoung sank into the seat across from Hanni, dressed in a cardigan and jeans, hair tied loosely after her class. There was flour on her sleeve. 

Hanni raised a brow. “You’re glowing.” 

Wonyoung rolled her eyes, sipping her iced tea. “I’m tired.” 

“You’re glowing tired then,” Hanni insisted, smirking. “How’s culinary class going?” 

Wonyoung smiled then. “It’s been really good, actually. We did choux pastry today, and I didn’t mess up the filling ratio. Chef actually said mine were close to shop quality.” 

Hanni grinned, leaning forward. “See? I told you. You’re thriving.” 

“I guess…” Wonyoung toyed with her straw. “It helps that I get to practice a lot at home. Yujin’s been giving me really useful feedback too. Like, seriously. She notices the smallest things.” 

Hanni nodded. “See, you’re telling me this nanny gig is like… perfect? You get to babysit two cute chaotic kids, save money, get culinary practice and…” 

Wonyoung knew what was coming. She held up a hand. “Don’t say it.” 

“…spend every evening with your long-time crush?” 

Wonyoung let out a sigh, laughing in defeat. “You are so annoying.” 

“But am I wrong?” Hanni grinned. 

Wonyoung leaned back in her chair. “That was college, Hanni. You know that. It’s different now.” 

Hanni squinted at her suspiciously, chin propped on her palm. “Do you not have a crush on Yujin now?” 

Wonyoung hesitated. She didn’t roll her eyes this time. She didn’t say no. She simply looked at the amber light pouring through the café window and said quietly, “It’s just… different now. She’s my boss.” 

“And?” 

“And it’s complicated.” Wonyoung shrugged. “She’s the kids’ mom. She’s my employer. We have boundaries.” 

The words left her lips with practiced ease, like she had already rehearsed the line a hundred times. But the moment they floated into the air, they sounded ridiculous even to herself. 

Because how could she say that with a straight face… when all she could think about was that damn massage? 

The way Yujin's hands had pressed into her shoulders with confident pressure. How her fingertips had skimmed down the curve of her spine, just barely brushing sensitive skin, sending little electric shivers across her back. And that one specific moment — God help her when she thought Yujin might slip her hands under her shirt and just… cup her. 

Wonyoung blinked hard, mentally short-circuiting in the café. 

Boundaries? What boundaries? 

She stirred her drink a little too aggressively, knocking an ice cube over the rim. 

Hanni raised a brow. “You good?” 

“Great,” Wonyoung said through a tight smile. “Super good. Zero boundary issues. Love that for me.” 

Hanni narrowed her eyes like she wasn’t buying a word of it. “But you like her.” 

Wonyoung didn’t answer. 

Did she? 

She liked her cooking feedback. She liked that she noticed when she was tired. She liked how she listened. How she didn’t make a fuss about small things. How she looked at her when she smiled. How she never made Wonyoung feel small despite their status in life. 

She stirred her drink and quietly changed the subject. “I still owe you bread, by the way. I’ll bake next week.” 

Hanni let it slide for now but the amused smirk never quite left her face. 

 

Chapter 6: a day to remember

Summary:

yujin takes wonyoung to her trusted local grocer, a small glimpse into her private world. and together with the twins, they surprise wonyoung, for the first time, wonyoung feels what it means to be celebrated, unaware that the night ahead will change everything.

 

Dinner had long settled into the air — the scent of grilled mackerel and sesame oil still lingering faintly in the penthouse as the twins sleepily rubbed their eyes and hugged Wonyoung goodnight. 

“Can we have blueberry muffins tomorrow?” Hyunseo asked, already halfway to his bedroom. 

“Pleaseee,” Jinu echoed, voice muffled against her side as he clung to her one last time. 

Wonyoung smiled. “Only if you go to bed now.” 

“Deal!” 

After tucking them in, Wonyoung returned to the kitchen where Yujin was finishing the last few bites of dinner. Their routine had gotten so fluid these days — easy and warm, as if the three of them had always been a unit. No, four, she corrected herself. Yujin, too. 

She wiped her hands on a towel and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll just step out quickly.” 

Yujin looked up from her water glass. “Where are you going? It’s already late.” 

“Just to the grocery,” Wonyoung replied. “Or convenience store if it’s closer. The twins asked for blueberry muffins, and I realized we’re out.” 

Yujin set down her glass. “Come on. I’ll take you.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “No, it’s fine, I can just—” 

“It’s late,” Yujin said, already rising. “And I know where to get better blueberries than whatever convenience store has on hand.” 

Before she could object again, Yujin was already grabbing her keys. 

The ride down to the private basement was quiet, punctuated only by the soft hum of the elevator. When the doors opened, Wonyoung hesitated. 

There it was — parked under the dim, industrial lighting — a sleek, white Porsche Cayenne, its surface almost glimmering under the fluorescent strips above. 

Wonyoung nearly gasped. 

Sure, the mini-van Bongsan or the expensive car used to shuttle the twins around was already nicer than anything she’d ever ridden in before, but this? This was next level. She opened the passenger door carefully, half afraid she’d smudge something just by touching it. 

Inside smelled faintly like leather and some kind of citrusy cologne — expensive and clean, just like everything else about Yujin. 

The ride was surprisingly quiet, Yujin driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. Wonyoung found herself sneaking glances at her — the calm in her profile, the way the lights from the city occasionally swept across her face. 

They weren’t going toward any store she recognized. In fact, they were veering off toward an older part of the city. 

“…Are we lost?” she asked. 

Yujin glanced at her, amused. “Not even close.” 

They pulled up in front of what looked like a closed shop — shuttered and dark, save for one dim light inside. Wonyoung opened her mouth to ask, but Yujin was already dialing someone. 

“Are you inside?” she asked into the phone, then nodded and hung up. “Let’s go.” 

The door to the market opened with a quiet creak, revealing a stooped old man in a grey apron, a kind smile forming as soon as he saw Yujin. 

“Woo-sung!” Yujin greeted, her voice warming. 

“Ah, Miss An. What are you doing out so late?” 

“Getting blueberries. For the twins,” she said with a soft smile, then gestured beside her. “This is their nanny, Wonyoung.” 

Wonyoung bowed politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Ah, so you’re the one they keep talking about,” the old man chuckled. “Come in, come in. I’ve got the best ones in the back.” 

Wonyoung followed them inside, heart fluttering at how surreal everything felt — in a fruit market after hours, escorted by her stunning boss who insisted on driving her across town for blueberries. Maybe because she cared?

And god, was Wonyoung flustered. Because this wasn’t just running errands. 

It was like a date. 

***

Inside the dimly lit shop, Wonyoung’s eyes widened in awe. The store was a treasure trove of delicacies, not just luxury goods, but items that carried stories — handwritten tags, imported jams from obscure villages, heirloom grains, and of course, fruits that looked like they’d been hand-picked at dawn. 

It smelled faintly of earth, honey, and aged wood. 

“Wow,” Wonyoung whispered, slowly turning around in place. “This is... not what I expected.” 

Yujin chuckled from behind her. “Yeah, Woo-sung-ssi doesn’t do casual groceries. He’s been sourcing from small farms for over forty years. The twins love his strawberries.” 

The old man, Woo-sung, grinned proudly and gestured to a crate of gleaming blueberries. “Picked this morning. Not even chilled yet. You’re lucky she brought you here.” 

Wonyoung glanced at Yujin, who had her hands in her coat pockets, watching her with a small, beautiful smile.

“You can pick whatever you like,” Yujin said, stepping closer. “Not just for the penthouse or the twins. If there’s something you love — snacks, chocolate, anything — grab it.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “I— what?” 

Yujin tilted her head. “You’ve basically filled our kitchen with warmth. I think it’s time you stocked it with a few things you like, too. Whenever you do groceries, you can also buy whatever snacks or foods you like.” 

The offer made Wonyoung’s heart flutter unexpectedly. She looked away, embarrassed, but nodded. 

“Okay. Just a few things.” 

But once she started, it was hard to stop — a bar of dark chocolate with sea salt she loved, some pistachios, mint chocolate (which the twins hated, but she adored), oats she liked to toast, and, of course, a few avocados and fresh herbs. Yujin stayed behind her the whole time, offering suggestions like she was enjoying a quiet game of What Would Wonyoung Choose? 

Once the bags were packed, Yujin helped carry them out to the car. Wonyoung tried to protest “I can carry them!” but Yujin gave her a look and took half the load without a word. 

The drive back was quiet. Soft jazz played from the dashboard, and the roads were empty and glowing under the warm hue of street lamps. 

***

One evening, the penthouse had grown quieter. The twins had long since retreated to bed, the echoes of their earlier excitement still lingering in the scattered remnants of their science project — bits of paper, glitter, and bottle caps that now lay neatly stacked by the corner, thanks to Wonyoung’s patient clean-up. 

She moved quietly around the living room, smoothing the couch pillows, folding a small blanket, then walking into the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. 

After drying her hands, Wonyoung reached for the tea tray, now a quiet nightly ritual she had come to enjoy more than she expected. Two mugs of chamomile — hers slightly sweetened with honey, Yujin’s plain. She padded gently toward Yujin’s office. 

Inside, Yujin was still at her desk. She looked up as Wonyoung entered, the tired yet automatic smile forming when she saw the tea tray. 

“You really didn’t have to,” she said, though she accepted the tea with a quiet gratitude. 

“I know,” Wonyoung replied with a small smile of her own, “but I like keeping you company. It's... peaceful. And I get to learn new stuffs in the culinary world too.” 

Yujin gave a small hum of agreement, sipping the tea as her eyes flicked back to the document she was reviewing. Wonyoung sank into the couch nearby, finally letting her body relax fully into the cushions. The warmth of her mug seeped into her palms, soothing, but her limbs were heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes drooped as she watched the light from Yujin’s screen dance against the walls. 

She didn’t realize when her head started bobbing — her chin gently dipping down before she jerked it back up. It happened once. Then again. The third time, her eyes blinked slowly, stayed closed longer. Until they didn’t open at all. 

Yujin glanced over at her, catching the way Wonyoung’s head had tilted ever so slightly to the side, her hair cascading like silk over her shoulder. Her tea rested half-finished on the small table beside her, and her breathing had already settled into a slow, steady rhythm. 

She didn’t say anything. She simply watched for a moment — quiet admiration flickering in her gaze. The city lights beyond the window haloed Wonyoung’s sleeping form. There was something strangely comforting about the sight. Maybe it was the way Wonyoung had made space for herself in this household, easing into the rhythms of the penthouse as if she had always belonged. 

Setting her mug aside, Yujin stood and crossed the room. She pulled open one of the side drawers and retrieved a soft grey throw blanket, walking back and gently draping it over Wonyoung’s curled figure. Her hand lingered just a moment longer, brushing a stray strand of hair away from Wonyoung’s cheek. 

She turned off the brighter overhead light, letting the room rest in a calm dimness, then sat down on the other side of the couch — still sipping the last of her tea, occasionally glancing at the girl beside her, already fast asleep, her lashes fluttering faintly against her skin. 

It was late, but for once, Yujin didn’t feel the pressure to go back to work. 

***

It was a quiet weekend afternoon in the penthouse, the sunlight spilling lazily across the floor of the living room where Wonyoung sat cross-legged on the rug with the twins. Her culinary class had just ended earlier that day, and she'd come back to the penthouse greeted by the twins' excited demand: "Let’s draw before movie time!" 

A large pad of paper was spread across the floor, along with colored markers, crayons, and bits of sticker paper that Hyunseo had insisted on using for "aesthetic." 

Wonyoung was attempting to draw what was supposed to be a slice of cake, but it looked more like a rectangle with a bad haircut. Jinu, who was drawing a bunny with cake on its head, leaned over and squinted at Wonyoung’s paper. “Is that a sofa?” 

“It’s a cake!” 

Hyunseo giggled, “It looks sad.” 

Wonyoung laughed along with them, tapping the top of Jinu’s head with a marker. “You two are too honest.” 

That’s when Hyunseo perked up, grabbing a worksheet from the side of the table. “Oh! Oh! Unnie, we have homework!” 

Wonyoung blinked. “You have weekend homework?” 

Jinu, already sighing dramatically, added, “Just small one. We have to write birthdays of people we live with.” 

Hyunseo grinned and leaned closer. “When’s your birthday, unnie?” 

Wonyoung blinked, surprised by the question, then smiled gently. “It’s next week, actually.” 

The twins gasped like it was national news. 

“That’s so soooon!” Hyunseo squealed. 

“Are you gonna have cake?” Jinu asked seriously, eyeing her like he needed to confirm whether or not she had the appropriate celebratory plans. 

Wonyoung chuckled. “Maybe. Depends.” 

“Are you gonna celebrate with your family?” Hyunseo asked, her voice curious. “Or friends? Or your boyfriend?” 

Jinu immediately pulled a disgusted face. “Ew, boyfriend.” 

Wonyoung burst into laughter. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Good,” Jinu mumbled with conviction, focusing back on his doodle of a animal-party hybrid. 

Wonyoung smiled, softer now. “My parents are a bit far, and they’re usually busy. Maybe I’ll celebrate with my friend Hanni next weekend. She always insists.” 

Hyunseo tilted her head. “What about us? Are we invited?” 

Wonyoung made a face as she tried to draw a candle. “Of course. We’ll celebrate together, okay? Me, Jinu, and Hyunseo.” 

Jinu looked up. “Is mommy invited too?” 

There was a tiny pause, not out of hesitation but surprise. Wonyoung glanced at the hallway, almost as if she sensed Yujin’s presence approaching from a distance. 

She nodded, her voice warm. “Yes. Your Mommy is invited too.” 

Yujin stepped into the penthouse, shrugging off her cardigan as she walked in. Her eyes scanned the living room, smiling slightly at the mess of markers, stickers, and laughter. She was still in her usual guarded morning face, but the moment she saw Wonyoung sitting comfortably with the twins, something about her expression softened.

“Mommyyyyy,” Hyunseo ran over, tugging at her hand. “Unnie’s birthday is next week! She said we can have a party with her,” she added with a grin. 

“She said you’re invited too,” Jinu looked up seriously, arms crossed like he had taken full responsibility for the event planning. 

Yujin raised an amused brow, glancing at Wonyoung, who suddenly looked shy again, her head ducked low over her “cake” drawing. 

“Is that so?” Yujin asked, voice teasing as she walked over. 

Wonyoung gave her a sheepish smile. “They asked. I couldn’t say no.” 

Yujin looked at her, just for a second too long before turning to the twins. “Then I guess we’ll have to plan something special.” 

Hyunseo cheered. Jinu already started drawing what appeared to be a cake bigger than a house. 

***

It was quiet when Wonyoung opened her eyes. 

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, lighting up the dimness of the early morning. She blinked a few times, still half-asleep, before reaching for it. 

6:57 AM. August 31. 

Her birthday. 

She smiled faintly, then opened the notification. Hanni, of course, had already sent a message — a digital confetti explosion of emojis: 🎂💐💝👑🫶🏻🍓 followed by, 

Happy birthday my beautiful pastry girl 🎉💖 what are we doing tonight huh??? your treat or mine? 😏 

Wonyoung chuckled under her breath. She stretched, eyes fluttering shut again for a brief second before reality tugged her out of the moment — she may be 27 now, but there were twins to feed and a gorgeous mom who waited for her breakfast and coffee every morning. 

She sat up, fixing her hair into a loose ponytail, then padded to the closet. Her room, still warm and dim, smelled faintly of jasmine from last night’s tea she didn’t finish with Yujin. She slipped into a soft knit top and linen pants before making her bed. A birthday didn’t mean routine disappeared. 

As she opened her bedroom door, she immediately heard it — a suppressed giggle followed by a dramatic whisper. 

“Shhh!” 

Wonyoung blinked. 

Then she saw Jinu and Hyunseo, sitting too perfectly on the couch, backs straight like guilty little statues, their hands behind them. 

Suspicious. 

Wonyoung softened instantly. “Good morning, my little monsters,” she greeted with mock seriousness. 

The twins turned to her with wide, bright smiles. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, UNNIE/NOONA!” they chorused, practically leaping from the couch. 

Jinu held out a small envelope — thick paper folded messily in half with rainbow stickers all over it. Hyunseo added, “We made it ourselves! Even the stickers are special edition.” 

Wonyoung’s heart melted. She crouched slightly to accept the envelope, and opened it right then and there — inside was a drawing of her (long hair, giant eyes), holding a birthday cake, flanked by two suspiciously cute stick-figure twins. Above their heads: “To the best chef nanny in the world! We love you!” written in multicolored pens. 

She froze for half a second, the words sinking in, before her eyes lifted to the two little faces beaming up at her, so proud of their handiwork. 

This… this was the first time they’d actually said they loved her. 

When she first arrived at the penthouse, the twins were polite enough, but Wonyoung quickly learned they were also sharp, clever, and not easily swayed. They didn’t warm up instantly — not out of malice, but because they guarded their trust like little dragons guarding treasure. Forget their favorite snack? They’d remember. Mix up their preferred bedtime story? They’d remind you. Fail to meet their tiny but very specific expectations? Well, she had heard about the harmless little pranks they’d pulled on past nannies. 

The difference was, Wonyoung never took their tricks too seriously — she joined in. She turned their schemes into games, laughed when they tried to stump her, and when she did mess up, she made it up to them, always with something thoughtful. And she had one undeniable advantage over every nanny before her: she could cook exactly the kind of food that made their little eyes light up. 

Now, after months of shared breakfasts, bedtime chats, giggle-filled projects, and even the occasional sulky day mended with a warm plate of pancakes, they weren’t just “the twins” anymore. They were her kids too, in some unspoken, impossible-to-label way. 

She didn’t realize just how much she loved them until this very moment — until those messy pen strokes told her that somewhere along the way, they had decided to love her back. 

“Aigoo… I love it,” she whispered, grinning. “Thank you, babies. I love you too.”

 Before either of them could react, she pulled them into her arms, squeezing them tight. Jinu let out a muffled “oof!” against her shoulder while Hyunseo patted her back like she was the one reassuring Wonyoung. 

They didn’t squirm away. 

When she finally pulled back. Hyunseo grinned. “Also! Mommy said to ask if you could go get her coffee from the café. The one down the street, you know it, right?” 

Wonyoung raised a brow. “Coffee?” 

Jinu nodded enthusiastically. “The usual one she gets. Mommy said she really wants it today.” 

Her eyes flicked toward the hallway, but Yujin wasn’t in sight. Hm. 

Wonyoung tilted her head. “Do you guys want to eat first?” 

“NOOOOOO!!” they shouted dramatically — too dramatically. 

“We’re not hungry yet!” Jinu added quickly. “We’ll eat when you come back!” 

Hyunseo coughed loudly into her fist. “Totally fine. Take your time.” 

Wonyoung stared at them with amused suspicion. Something was definitely up, but she didn’t press. “Okay, okay… I’ll change again and head down.” 

“THANK YOU! TAKE YOUR TIME!” they shouted — again, way too enthusiastic for a simple coffee run. 

Shaking her head in disbelief, she stepped back into her room and changed into a casual black hoodie and jeans, throwing on a cap and some lip balm. Grabbing her phone and wallet, she headed for the door, glancing back at the twins who were now whispering furiously to each other, pretending not to watch her leave. 

As she stepped into the hallway and pressed the elevator button, a tiny smile played at her lips. 

Something was definitely going on. 

But for now, she was just the nanny… running out for a cup of coffee. 

***

The faint warmth of the sun brushing over Wonyoung’s skin as she made her way down the quiet street toward the café. It was a bit of a walk from the penthouse — ten minutes at least — but she didn’t mind. She’d made that trip enough times for a random coffee cravings from Yujin or some pastries the twins want.

The streets were only just waking up, shop signs blinking to life, a delivery truck unloading crates of vegetables in front of a restaurant. Wonyoung tucked her hands into her cardigan pockets, feeling the folded card from the twins against her fingers, still warm from their tiny hands. 

By the time she reached the café, she could smell the faint bitterness of freshly ground beans spilling out into the street. She stepped inside, where the hum of the espresso machine and soft indie music filled the air. 

“Good morning,” she said to the barista, stepping up to the counter. “I’m here to pick up a coffee order for… An Yujin.” 

 The barista tapped on the tablet, glanced at the screen, and smiled. “Yep, it’s here. Just give us a minute to finish it up.” 

Wonyoung stepped to the side, watching through the glass as cups were lined up, shots pulled, milk steamed. It smelled so good she could almost taste it. 

When they called her back, she reached for the familiar tall cup of iced Americano — Yujin’s signature. But her brows lifted slightly when she noticed another cup beside it. An iced latte. Her iced latte. And beside that… two smaller cups with bright juice, complete with colorful straws. 

Her lips curved without her permission. So she wasn’t just the coffee delivery girl this morning — she was included. She wondered if it was a coincidence or… did Yujin actually remember what today was? 

She carried the drinks carefully, the condensation already cooling her fingers as she began the walk back. 

The moment she stepped into the penthouse and closed the door, a sudden, sharp pop-pop-pop! went off right in front of her. She gasped, actually jumping back a step as bursts of colorful confetti rained down around her like tiny paper fireworks. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, UNNIE/NOONA!” 

The twins were practically bouncing in front of her, their voices loud enough to echo down the hallway. 

Wonyoung’s startled gasp dissolved into laughter, her cheeks warming. “I knew you two were acting suspicious!” she teased, shaking her head as more bits of confetti clung to her hair. 

But then she saw Yujin, standing just behind the twins, still in her soft gray pajama set, smiling at her like the sight of Wonyoung was the only thing worth looking at this morning. In her hands was a cake — not just any cake, but a perfectly frosted strawberry tres leches, the kind Wonyoung had once mentioned she liked to eat when her grandmother was still strong enough to bake her cakes.

 In neat, careful icing, it read: Happy Birthday, Wonyoung 

Her breath caught again, but for a very different reason. 

The twins hurried forward to take the drink tray from her hands while Yujin stepped closer, the cake steady in her grip. 

“Surprise,” Yujin said softly, the faintest glint of amusement in her eyes. 

Wonyoung could only stand there, confetti tangled in her hair, holding back a smile so wide it threatened to spill past her control. 

“Come on, unnie, blow the candles!” Hyunseo urged, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Yes, make a wish first!” Jinu added, clasping his hands together like he was the one praying for a miracle. 

Wonyoung let out a soft laugh, setting her coffee down on the counter. She stepped closer, the sweet scent of strawberries and whipped cream mingling with the faint aroma of Yujin scent. Closing her eyes, she let herself pause — just for a second — to soak in the moment. The sound of the twins’ muffled giggles. The faint hum of the city outside the tall glass windows. The warmth of knowing someone cared enough to do all this for her. 

She made her wish quietly. 

When she opened her eyes again, Yujin’s face was right there. 

Up close, her features were unfairly perfect — soft yet sharp in the early light, eyes sparkling, her lips curved into that easy smile that always seemed to disarm Wonyoung. For a moment, the whole room blurred, her gaze caught on the way Yujin looked at her, like she was in no hurry for the moment to pass. 

Wonyoung smiled back instinctively, her chest tightening in the warmest way. She reached up, cupping her hand behind the candle flames — not because they needed shielding, but because she didn’t want her breath to hit Yujin’s face when she blew them out. 

She exhaled gently, and the small flames disappeared in a curl of smoke. 

The twins clapped and cheered as if she had just performed a magic trick. 

Yujin glanced at the cake once more before meeting Wonyoung’s eyes. “We made you birthday breakfast,” she said, her voice low but warm. “No work for you this morning.” 

Hyunseo jumped in before Wonyoung could even react. “And no strict diet today! We’re having a big breakfast!” 

“Yeah,” Jinu nodded enthusiastically. “We made every breakfast food we could think of… pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit bowls, even croissants from the bakery. And we helped make the plates look pretty!” 

“And the best part,” Hyunseo added, leaning closer like it was a secret, “is we can have cake this early in the morning.” 

The twins laughed at their own brilliance while Yujin just shook her head fondly. 

Then Jinu perked up again. “Oh! Unnie, go put your pajamas back on so we can all match!” 

“Yeah!” Hyunseo pointed at his and Jinu’s pajamas — and Yujin’s — all coordinated in different shades. “It’ll be like a pajama party breakfast!” 

Wonyoung pressed her lips together, holding back another laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.” 

***

When Wonyoung came back in her pajamas, the twins cheered like she’d just walked out in a ball gown. 

“Now we match!” Hyunseo grinned, patting the seat next to her at the dining table. 

The breakfast spread was… overwhelming in the sweetest way. Plates of golden pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs fluffy enough to look like clouds, crispy bacon strips lined neatly, sausages, ham, fresh fruit in bowls glistening with dew, and croissants still warm from the oven. Right in the center sat the strawberry tres leches cake — like a crown jewel waiting for round two. 

They dug in, forks clinking, the smell of butter and sugar filling the air. 

Jinu, mid-bite of pancake, suddenly said, “It’s nice. We can eat like a family now.” 

Wonyoung’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Inside, something tugged at her — the word family doing an uninvited little pirouette in her chest. 

Yujin caught the moment. She set her coffee mug down and tilted her head, her lips curling faintly. “Family, huh?” she said, glancing at the twins. “…Are we a family now?” 

“Yes,” Jinu replied immediately, without even thinking. “Family eat together and live together.” 

Hyunseo nodded, adding, “And parents provide for the children. Mommy works hard, and Wonyoung unnie makes the food and takes care of us. You’re perfect partners.” 

The words landed like a spark in the middle of the table. 

Jinu turned to Wonyoung, his expression all wide-eyed innocence. “So… can Mommy and Wonyoung noona be partners?” 

Before Wonyoung could process the question, Hyunseo piped up, totally serious, “Why not? Our classmate Jin-ho has two dads, and Eun-hwa unnie has both moms. They’re super cool. So we’d be cool too.” 

Wonyoung nearly choked on her juice. Her face warmed instantly, and she pressed her lips together in a failed attempt to hide her flustered smile. “You two…” she murmured, shaking her head, eyes darting anywhere but Yujin. She waved her hands lightly, laughing it off. “That’s… that’s not how—” 

Yujin, for her part, didn’t laugh or wave it off — she just leaned back in her chair, looking at her twins with interest, the kind that said she was happy to let them keep talking. 

Jinu sat in thought for a moment, then gave a decisive nod. “Yeah. We’d be cooler in school.” 

***

After breakfast, Wonyoung began gathering the plates almost out of habit, stacking them neatly and heading toward the sink. But before she could take more than a step, a warm hand closed gently around her forearm. 

She froze. The contact sent an unexpected shiver skittering up her arm, the heat of Yujin’s touch lingering against her skin. 

“It’s your birthday,” Yujin’s low, even voice said from just beside her. “We’ll do the dishes.” 

Wonyoung blinked and glanced at her. “It’s fine, I can—” 

“No.” Yujin’s tone carried that calm authority she used with boardroom confidence. “It’s an order — for you to rest. And I’m telling you this as your boss.” 

The twins immediately burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the moment. “Unnie’s cornered!” Hyunseo declared with mock drama. 

“Yeah, she can’t say no now!” Jinu chimed in, grinning. 

Wonyoung laughed, holding up her hands in defeat. “Alright, alright… you win.” 

Before she knew it, the twins were ushering her away from the kitchen and toward the wide living room. “Sit here!” Jinu insisted, patting the couch cushion. “And you have to watch something funny!” 

Hyunseo was already digging through the TV menu until Jinu found what he wanted — a ridiculous, slapstick cartoon he swore was “the funniest thing ever.” 

As Wonyoung settled onto the plush couch, the sound of clattering dishes and running water came faintly from the kitchen where Yujin and the twins worked together. She glanced at the TV screen, the silly characters bouncing across it, but her focus kept slipping. 

Her chest felt tight, not in a bad way, but with a slow, spreading warmth that made her eyes sting. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to make her birthday feel special like this. Not since her grandmother had passed. Her parents still called or texted on her birthday, but those interactions had grown polite, distant — more a formality than celebration. 

And here she was now, in a penthouse she’d only stepped into months ago, being treated like she belonged. The twins’ laughter in the background, Yujin’s quiet voice giving them instructions, the smell of coffee and breakfast in the air… it all wrapped around her like a blanket. 

This job might be temporary, but right now, that didn’t matter. All she knew was that she genuinely enjoyed her time here. Somehow, this place had stopped feeling like just her workplace — it had begun to feel like a home. 

***

The afternoon slipped by, the kind that only happens when nobody is in a rush to be anywhere else. True to their word, Yujin and the twins didn’t let Wonyoung touch a single dishcloth or cleaning rag. Every time she so much as glanced toward the kitchen, one of them would shoo her away — Hyunseo even blocking her path at one point with a dramatic “No chores for the birthday girl!” 

At one point, the twins eagerly tugged her toward their shared room. “We cleaned it!” Jinu announced proudly, flinging the door open. 

“Like, actually cleaned it,” Hyunseo added with wide eyes, as though the feat deserved a medal. 

Wonyoung stepped inside, looking around at the surprisingly tidy space — beds made, toys lined up in something that resembled order, even their schoolbooks stacked neatly on the desk. “Wow,” she said honestly, crouching down to meet their expectant gazes. “You two are so grown up now. This looks amazing.” 

Both kids beamed like they’d just been told they’d passed some secret inspection. 

The rest of the afternoon unfolded lazily, comfortably. They played a few rounds of Monopoly, which, as always, dissolved into dramatic negotiations over fake property and who was clearly cheating (“It’s not cheating if it’s strategy!” Hyunseo insisted). 

Later, they sprawled in the living room to watch a movie. The twins insisted Wonyoung should pick, but she waved them off. “It’s my birthday, but I want everyone to enjoy it,” she said, scanning the titles until she found an animated film about K-pop idol demon hunters — loud, colorful, and exactly the kind of thing that would make the twins light up. 

They watched, occasionally commenting on the songs or making up silly theories about which demon was the coolest. Somewhere between the exaggerated performances and the over-the-top fight scenes, Wonyoung felt the thought settle in her chest: This feels like a family. 

Her mind flickered back to breakfast, to Jinu’s innocent declaration. She wondered, not for the first time, what the twins’ life looked like before she arrived. Had they eaten together like this when their dad was still around? Did Yujin and Yeonjun ever get the chance to sit down with them, or had their lives always been split between busy schedules and the twins’ own little world? 

She didn’t know the answer, but right now, with the twins laughing at the ridiculous on-screen antics, she let herself imagine that maybe this was what a happy family afternoon had always looked like. 

The twins had claimed the middle of the couch as their kingdom — Jinu tucked firmly against his mom, his head leaning on her side like she was his personal armrest, and Hyunseo comfortably resting her shoulder against Wonyoung’s. From where she sat, Wonyoung could see Yujin’s profile in her periphery, the soft curve of her smile as she absently smoothed Jinu’s hair. 

Yeah… it really did feel like family. The thought slipped in uninvited, warm and bittersweet all at once. 

Halfway through the movie, the doorbell rang. 

“It’s here,” Yujin announced, rising from her seat. 

“What’s here?” Wonyoung asked, glancing toward the door. 

Before Yujin could answer, Jinu bounced upright, grinning. “Pizza! We ordered pizza!” He was practically glowing as he added, “I love this day. I wish it was Wonyoung noona’s birthday every day — Mom’s not strict today!” 

Wonyoung laughed, and she caught the brief roll of Yujin’s eyes at her son’s comment before Yujin followed him to the door. Moments later, the two returned, Yujin balancing a couple of large pizza boxes in one hand and a paper bag of golden fries in the other. The smell hit first — warm, cheesy, and irresistible. 

They abandoned the couch for the living room floor, pulling the low table closer to the TV. Plates were barely necessary as slices disappeared straight from the box, strings of cheese stretching dangerously between bites. The twins’ laughter and the steady noise of the movie filled the space, mixing with the occasional, satisfied hum from Yujin whenever she snagged a fry. 

Wonyoung found herself leaning forward on her elbows, laughing at a ridiculous scene on screen while Hyunseo pushed a slice toward her with a determined, “Eat more unnie, it’s your birthday.” 

It was messy, comfortable, and so unpolished and yet there was something achingly perfect about it. Sitting on the carpet with the twins cross-legged beside her, Yujin across from her stealing a piece of crust, the glow from the TV flickering over all their faces… it was domestic in a way that made Wonyoung’s chest feel too full. 

***

The day slipped away in a haze of warmth and laughter, and before Wonyoung knew it, the living room windows were aglow with the soft orange tint of the evening sky. She was still on the carpet with Hyunseo, helping put away the board game pieces, when Jinu suddenly bounced to his feet, holding a large, ribbon-tied box like it was some sort of treasure chest. 

“Noona, this is for you!” he announced proudly, thrusting it into her arms. 

Wonyoung blinked at the unexpected weight and size of it. “What is this?” she asked, brushing her fingers over the neat silver bow. 

“It’s your birthday present!” Hyunseo grinned, bouncing on her toes. “You have to wear it tonight!” 

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Wear it? Where did this even come from?” 

“Mommy helped pick it,” Hyunseo said in a sing-song tone, her eyes darting to Yujin, who was standing nearby with a faintly amused smile. 

Wonyoung turned to her, warmth creeping up her neck. “Thank you, Yujin.” 

Yujin’s lips curled into that relaxed, almost teasing smile that made it hard for Wonyoung to hold her gaze. “The twins wanted to make your birthday really special.” 

Wonyoung felt her chest tighten at the thought. “It already is,” she said honestly. “You’ve all done so much for me today. Are we… going somewhere?” 

“Not really,” Jinu blurted before Yujin could answer. “You’re having a formal birthday dinner party!” He spread his arms wide as if unveiling the grandest surprise. 

“A… formal party?” Wonyoung laughed softly, her brows knitting in disbelief. “You really don’t have to go this far—” 

“You do,” Yujin interrupted smoothly, her tone so certain it left no room for argument. “The twins always get what they want.” Her eyes glimmered with quiet mischief. 

Wonyoung chuckled under her breath, conceding. “I guess you’re right. So… will you two be dressing up too?” 

“Of course!” Hyunseo declared. “And Hanni unnie is coming over!” 

The mention of Hanni made Wonyoung’s heart lift. “Really? That’s… actually perfect.” 

“Yup! But,” Jinu added suddenly, adopting an overly serious face, “you can’t come out until seven p.m. sharp! If you do, the party will be ruined!” 

Wonyoung raised both brows, biting back a laugh at how dramatic he sounded. “Alright, alright… I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

She turned toward her bedroom door, the large gift box cradled against her side. Just before she stepped in, Hyunseo leaned around her and called, “And no peeking at the dining room either!” 

“Okay,” Wonyoung promised from the doorway, smiling as she closed herself inside, the sound of the twins’ muffled giggles carrying through the door. 

***

Wonyoung lifted the lid of the glossy, ribbon-wrapped box, and the first thing she saw was a sliver of crimson silk, folded with care. Her fingers brushed the fabric, soft as water, and she pulled the dress free. 

It was stunning. A deep red that practically glowed under the warm bedroom light, the neckline dipping just enough to hint at her cleavage, the hem sweeping down one side but parting high enough to reveal the length of her leg when she walked. It wasn’t loud — no sequins or glitter — but it was the kind of dress that didn’t need to shout to turn heads. 

“Wow,” she whispered to herself. The twins and Yujin… they had taste. 

She turned the tag over and nearly choked. A designer label. She knew this brand — she’d seen it in glossy magazine spreads, the kind with price tags that could wipe out her three months salary in one swipe. Her brows lifted. God, they’re spoiling me. 

As she held the dress against herself in the mirror, a thought slipped in uninvited: how would Yujin react seeing her in this? The twins certainly didn’t have that kind of money, which meant Yujin had chosen it… and paid for it. That meant Yujin had imagined her wearing it. 

Her cheeks warmed instantly. She hated how her mind lingered there — Yujin’s eyes trailing over the cut of the dress, the way the slit would move as she walked. Wonyoung shook her head, muttering, “It’s just a gift, that’s all. Stop reading into it.” 

Still, she couldn’t help the little coil of excitement in her stomach. It was past 6 PM now, and she had an hour before she was “allowed” to come out. She slipped into the bathroom, running herself a quick, warm bath. Steam curled up around her as she sank in, letting the water ease the afternoon’s laughter and board-game chaos out of her muscles. 

When she stepped out, she took her time pampering herself — body lotion that left her skin faintly scented, a careful blow-dry before coaxing her hair into soft waves that spilled over her shoulders. She dusted on makeup to suit the dress: a sweep of eyeliner, a touch of shimmer at the corners of her eyes, and a bold red lip that made her pause for a second in front of the mirror. 

She slipped into the dress, smoothing the silk over her hips. It fit perfectly. Almost suspiciously perfectly, as if it had been tailored for her measurements. She twirled once, the slit flashing her leg, and caught her own grin in the mirror. 

And then that thought returned, teasing and insistent: God, why am I thinking about how Yujin will look at me? 

Her mind scrambled for a justification — any justification — and landed on one she could live with: Because she bought me the dress. She spent all that money. It’s only right I make it look good. That’s all. 

She adjusted the straps, grabbed her heels, and waited for the clock to tick toward 7PM, her pulse a little quicker than usual. 

***

By the time the clock read 6:58 PM, Wonyoung could already hear them outside. Little muffled giggles, hurried whispers, the unmistakable sound of Jinu shushing Hyunseo even though he was laughing too. 

“Fifty-nine… sixty!” Hyunseo whispered like it was some top-secret mission. 

Wonyoung chuckled to herself and took a deep breath before turning the doorknob. 

The door swung open, and there they were — Jinu in a tiny semi-formal suit, white shirt buttoned up neatly, his slacks slightly too long but clearly pressed for the occasion. Beside him, Hyunseo in a pretty purple dress with a matching headband, her hair combed smooth and shiny. Both of them looked freshly bathed, smelling faintly of fruity shampoo. 

The twins’ eyes lit up when they saw her. 

“Whoa!” Hyunseo gasped. “Unnie, you’re so beautiful!” 

“You look like you came from a magazine!” Jinu added with a grin. 

Wonyoung’s lips curved into a warm smile. “Thank you, my handsome little gentleman and my lovely princess. You two look amazing too.” 

They beamed at the compliment, immediately reaching for her hands. 

“Come on!” Jinu tugged her gently toward the hallway, his excitement bubbling over. 

Hyunseo grabbed her other hand, practically bouncing as they led her out. 

The hallway was glowing — literally. Warm fairy lights traced along the walls. 

When they stepped into the living room, Wonyoung’s breath caught. Pink balloons floated near the ceiling, their ribbons dangling low. A large banner stretched across the wall, handwritten in cheerful block letters: “HAPPY WONYOUNG’S DAY!” In the corner, a small table was stacked with neatly wrapped gifts, some decorated with sparkly bows, others with messy, childlike wrapping clearly done by the twins. 

By the sofa, Bongsan ahjussi stood smiling, looking a little out of place in his dark vest but clearly happy to be there. Beside him was Hanni, her hair tucked behind one ear, wearing a simple skirt and blouse in muted tones — semi-formal, but still comfortably her. 

And then… 

Her eyes found Yujin. 

Standing near the dining table, she wore a perfectly tailored navy blazer over matching slacks, the fabric structured yet soft, the kind of cut that made her posture look even more confident. Underneath, a pale silk blouse peeked out at the collar. Her hair was loose tonight, framing her face. When Yujin saw her, her lips curved into a slow, easy smile that somehow reached her eyes. 

Wonyoung felt something warm and tight in her chest. 

“Wow…” was all she managed in her head. 

The twins were still holding her hands when they proudly announced, “We did the decorations! Mommy helped!” 

Wonyoung turned her gaze from the twins to Yujin, meeting her eyes for just a moment. She mouthed a silent, thank you. 

Yujin only gave her the smallest nod, but it was accompanied by the faintest upward twitch of her lips — not her usual professional smile, but something that felt just for her. 

Yujin didn’t have to do this. She didn’t have to indulge the twins’ enthusiasm, or spend time decorating, or let them throw this little party. But she had. And Wonyoung felt that gratitude settle deep inside her, heavier and sweeter than she expected. 

***

The dinner felt like stepping into a glossy magazine spread. The table gleamed under the warm chandelier light, crystal glasses catching the golden reflections, and each plate was a work of art —delicate swirls of sauce, glistening garnishes, and the kind of presentation that screamed Michelin. 

Wonyoung had never seen so many famous dishes in one place. She knew these names — everyone in Seoul knew these names. These were restaurants that people booked months in advance, and the prices were high enough to make her flinch just thinking about it. She’d always imagined maybe one day she’d go to one of them as a special treat for herself, but here they were… all of them… in one meal. 

“The bread is from Chef Moon’s bakery!” Jinu announced proudly, as though he’d baked it himself.

Hyunseo chimed in, “And this steak is Mommy’s favorite! She said it’s the best in the whole world!”

They even showed Wonyoung a handwritten list, pointing at each dish with the confidence of seasoned food critics. 

Wonyoung took a bite of the cake after dinner and almost forgot to breathe. Of course she knew this bakery — the most famous patisserie in Seoul, run by a pastry chef who catered to A-list celebrities and royalty. Even their smallest cupcakes sold out within an hour of being announced. The sponge was impossibly soft, the strawberries sweeter than any she’d ever had, and the cream was like silk. 

Hanni, seated beside her, nudged her in the side, her voice low and teasing. “All this… for a staff member?” Hanni smirked, her eyes darting toward Yujin at the far end of the table, who was laughing with Bongsan ahjussi about something the twins had said.

Wonyoung swallowed her bite quickly. “The twins planned it—”

Hanni cut her off with a quiet, knowing laugh. “Uh-huh. And An Yujin just went along with it? Don’t give me that. She’s never done this before for anyone. Ever.” 

Wonyoung blinked. “…Really?”

“Really,” Hanni whispered, leaning closer. “I’ve been here for four years. I’ve seen birthdays come and go. She might buy the twins something for their nanny to give them, maybe a small cake, but this? Multiple Michelin-starred restaurants? A designer dress? The works? Even for a high-profile person like her, this is… insane.” 

Wonyoung looked down at her plate, her cheeks heating. “It’s just… the twins wanted to make it special.”
 
Hanni gave her a sly grin. “So… nothing happened between you two?”

“No!” Wonyoung said quickly, maybe too quickly.

She had barely managed to defend herself from Hanni’s first wave of teasing when her friend leaned back in her chair, wine glass in hand, and lowered her voice again. 

“Okay, fine. If you insist nothing’s going on…” Hanni swirled the dark red liquid lazily, eyes glinting in mischief. “…then just be careful.” 

Wonyoung frowned, confused. “Careful? About what?” 

Hanni tilted her head ever so slightly toward Yujin, who was now cutting a piece of steak for Hyunseo while listening to Jinu’s very animated story. “About her. You know she’s still in the middle of her divorce.” 

Wonyoung pressed her lips together. “I know. But why would I need to be careful?” 

Hanni’s gaze slid back to her, sharp but amused. “Because… even if you don’t think you’re involved, she’s… not exactly someone you get close to without it meaning something.” 

Wonyoung let out a small, defensive laugh. “You’re making it sound like I’m in danger. Besides, I might not even be her type. She married a guy.” 

That earned her a soft chuckle from Hanni, the kind that meant she knew something Wonyoung didn’t. She leaned in so close that Wonyoung could feel her breath warm against her ear. 

“Who,” Hanni murmured, voice low and conspiratorial, “says she’s only into men?” 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened slightly, but before she could react, Hanni pulled back with a sly smile. 

“You are aware,” she continued casually, “that I’m her secretary? I see everything. I’ve sent and received plenty of her… personal gifts. Let’s just say… since the divorce? Not a single man. Not. One.” 

Wonyoung’s mouth went dry. “What—”

But Hanni was already rising from her chair, taking her wine glass with her. “Mmm, nothing. Enjoy your cake, birthday girl.” 

She walked away with a satisfied little smirk, leaving Wonyoung frozen in her seat, fork suspended mid-air. 

Her mind spun.

What did that mean?

Not a single man?

Did Hanni mean—

No. That was ridiculous. Right? 

 

Chapter 7: a night to never forget

Summary:

after the celebration winds down and the twins drift off to sleep, the night softens into something quieter. with glasses of wine in hand, laughter gives way to long silences and lingering glances. what began as a simple toast unravels into something deeper~

 

The twins clapped their hands loudly for everyone’s attention.

“Time to sing!” Hyunseo declared with a grin that could light up the room. 

Jinu jumped in, already starting the first few notes of the birthday song. The others joined in — Hanni’s bright voice, Bongsan ahjussi’s deep hum, and even Yujin’s soft, warm tone carrying through. 

Wonyoung sat there with the cake in front of her, the candles flickering gold against the dimmed lighting. She couldn’t stop smiling. The twins swayed side to side as they sang, clearly proud of themselves for orchestrating this moment. 

When the song ended, Hyunseo urged, “Make a wish, Wonyoung unnie!”

Jinu nodded seriously. “A good one!” 

Wonyoung closed her eyes. She wasn’t even sure what to wish for — her mind felt too full, too warm. When she opened them again, the first thing she saw was Yujin on the other side of the table.

She leaned forward and blew the candles out. Applause and cheers filled the room. She laughed, a little shaky, and said, “Thank you. All of you. Especially you two,” she nodded at the twins, who beamed instantly, “and of course… Yujin-ssi, for… all of this. I’ve never…” She stopped, her throat tightening. “…I’ve never had something like this before. I really love it.” 

The twins both moved in to hug her at the same time, nearly knocking her off her chair.

They eat again and as promised, every dish was extraordinary. Wonyoung helped cut Jinu’s meat into bite-sized pieces, passed Hyunseo the bread rolls she liked, and made sure both kids had enough juice. But between all the small care-taking moments, she found her gaze drifting again and again to Yujin. 

And every time, she realized Yujin was already looking at her. 

Sometimes it was a fleeting glance caught in the corner of her eye. Sometimes it was more direct — Yujin resting her chin in her hand while listening to the twins chatter, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Wonyoung instead. 

Once, their eyes met for a fraction too long, and Wonyoung quickly looked down at her plate, cheeks warming. 

Hanni noticed. Of course she did. She leaned close, pretending to grab the salt, and murmured, “the boss is staring again.” 

Wonyoung shot her a warning look, whispering back, “Stop.” 

Hanni grinned. “I’m just saying… if you two were in a movie right now, this would be the montage before the kiss.” 

Wonyoung ignored her, or at least tried to — but now, every time she looked up and met Yujin’s gaze, her heartbeat skipped just enough to make her wonder if Hanni might be right. 

***

The night lingered far longer than any of them expected. Between bites of decadent dishes and the twins insisting on “just one more” game, the hours slipped by. At one point, Hyunseo dragged out a trivia card game, declaring it was “for grown-ups too,” and somehow they all ended up laughing so hard Wonyoung nearly spilled her wine. The twins, running on sugar and excitement, hopped from board games to charades, their giggles echoing through the penthouse. 

By the time the clock pushed past ten, Hanni stretched her arms with an exaggerated groan. “I’m officially stuffed and exhausted,” she announced, slipping on her coat. Bongsan, polite as always, stood to join her. 

“Drive Hanni home,” Yujin told him, her tone with that quiet finality that made it a clear instruction. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Wonyoung hugged Hanni at the door. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. 

“Of course,” Hanni whispered back with a little smirk. “You know I wouldn’t miss this… especially now.” The glint in her eyes made Wonyoung suspicious, but she didn’t press. 

“Drive safe,” Wonyoung said to Bongsan with a small bow. 

When the door closed, the penthouse felt quieter. 

Together, she and Yujin began packing away the leftover food, slipping them into containers and slotting them neatly into the massive fridge. Their shoulders brushed once or twice, the accidental touches sending a faint jolt down Wonyoung’s spine. She could feel the subtle awareness in the air — how their words had slowed, how their gazes lingered just a second longer than necessary. 

When the last container was tucked into the fridge and the kitchen gleamed again, Yujin brushed her hands off and said, “I’ll put the twins to bed.” 

But before she could take a single step toward the hallway, Jinu’s voice piped up from the living room. “Wonyoung noona has to come too!” 

Hyunseo nodded emphatically from behind him. “Yeah! We want both of you to tuck us in. It’s not fair if only Mommy does it.” 

Yujin raised a brow at them, but there was amusement tugging at her lips. “So whatever you two say, we have to follow?” 

“Yes!” the twins says without hesitation. 

Wonyoung laughed softly, holding up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Can’t argue with that.” 

The four of them padded down the hallway together, the twins skipping ahead, still riding the high of the day’s celebrations. 

In the bedroom, the twins climbed into their beds, pulling the blankets up to their chins. “Today was the best birthday,” Jinu mumbled sleepily. 

“Yours or mine?” Wonyoung teased. 

“Yours, but it felt like ours too,” Hyunseo said, her eyes fluttering. “Because we planned it… together.” 

“You two did an amazing job,” Wonyoung said warmly, smoothing the blanket over Hyunseo’s shoulder. “I really loved it.” 

“Mommy helped a lot,” Jinu admitted, turning to glance at Yujin. 

“And you decorated the whole penthouse,” Wonyoung added with a proud smile. “You could be event planners one day.” 

The twins giggled at the idea, but their words started to slow, little yawns breaking through their sentences. 

Yujin leaned down first, kissing each of their foreheads with a quiet “Goodnight.” Wonyoung followed instinctively, pressing her lips to their warm skin, only realizing afterward — when she straightened — that her lips had just touched where Yujin’s had been seconds before. 

She glanced at Yujin without meaning to. Yujin met her gaze briefly, the look unreadable but lingering just long enough to make Wonyoung’s stomach tighten. 

“Sleep well, you two,” Yujin murmured, switching off the bedside lamp. 

When the twins’ door clicked shut, the hallway suddenly felt… different. Quiet. 

Wonyoung lingered there a moment, her hand still on the knob, a soft warmth curling in her chest. The day had been overwhelming — in the best possible way and she could still see flashes of pink balloons, hear the twins’ giggles, feel Yujin’s quiet gaze across the dinner table. 

She turned to Yujin, who was watching her with that unreadable little smile. Normally, this was the time they drifted to the kitchen or her office for tea, their unofficial nightly ritual. But tonight… 

“You know,” Wonyoung began, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it’s still my birthday. And since you’ve already spoiled me so much…” She hesitated, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Do you… maybe want to trade tea for a drink tonight?” 

Yujin’s brows arched slightly, like she hadn’t expected that. “A drink,” she echoed, her voice lower, curious. 

Wonyoung nodded. “Just… to end the night a little differently. And besides, we didn’t get to drink those wines you brought out earlier.” 

For a moment, Yujin only looked at her — then her lips curved in the faintest smirk. “Alright,” she said finally. “But if we’re trading tea for something stronger… we do it properly.” 

She gestured for Wonyoung to follow, leading her toward the office, where the city skyline glowed and a cabinet of sleek bottles waited. 

***

Yujin returned from the small bar cabinet in her office with a tall, dusted bottle cradled in one hand and two crystal glasses in the other. 

“I’ve been saving this for a while,” she said, setting it gently on the low coffee table between them. The label read Château Margaux, the deep gold letters catching the soft lamplight. Wonyoung’s eyes widened. 

“Yujin… this is— this is ridiculously expensive,” she stammered, glancing from the bottle to Yujin’s calm expression. “I don’t think I can drink this. I’m not worthy to drin—” 

“—worthy?” Yujin repeated, one brow arching in gentle amusement as she reached for the corkscrew. “No matter how expensive a drink is, its worth isn’t in the price tag. It’s in how much you enjoy it. And it’s best enjoyed when it’s shared.” 

The cork eased out with a soft pop. The scent of rich, aged wine drifted toward Wonyoung, heady and inviting. Yujin poured slowly, the deep garnet liquid swirling into each glass, catching the lamplight like molten ruby. 

They settled on the couch — Wonyoung at one end, Yujin at the other, the bottle and glasses between them on the table. Wonyoung angled herself slightly toward Yujin as she reached for her glass, the slit of her red dress falling open just enough to reveal a stretch of her thigh. It wasn’t intentional or maybe it was but she caught, in the briefest flicker, Yujin’s gaze dip before it returned to her face. 

Wonyoung’s fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass as warmth not just from the wine — spread through her. She took a slow sip, letting the velvety texture coat her tongue. 

“I really…” she began, her voice softer than she meant it to be, “I’m really grateful for today.” 

Yujin swirled the wine in her glass, studying the way it clung to the crystal before meeting Wonyoung’s eyes. “I actually had Hanni try to invite your parents, but they said they were busy.” 

Wonyoung blinked, her heart twisting. She even thought of that? No one had ever tried that for her before — not since her grandmother passed. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture almost made her throat tighten. 

She set her glass down carefully. “Yeah… my parents and I… we don’t see each other much anymore. It’s probably for the best.” 

Yujin leaned back, the lines of her jaw softened in the low light. “I just thought your birthday might feel happier if they were here to celebrate with you.” 

Wonyoung smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Honestly? It feels complete already.” She drew in a quiet breath, letting her gaze linger on Yujin. “I have a job… I can keep up with my culinary lessons… I can keep cooking… I have my best friend Hanni… the twins…” 

She paused, her eyes catching Yujin’s, the space between them suddenly feeling smaller, denser. “And then…” Wonyoung hesitated, the wine loosening her tongue just enough for honesty to slip out, “…I have you as well.” 

Yujin didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned back against the couch, the crystal glass in her hand catching the warm lamplight as she swirled the deep red wine in slow circles. Her lips curved faintly, almost like she was trying not to give away too much. 

“Well,” she said, voice light, almost teasing, “I’m your boss now… so I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

Wonyoung let out a small laugh at that, but Yujin’s expression softened as she set her glass down on the coffee table. 

“But seriously…” Yujin’s voice lowered. “I’m glad you’re here. Not just for the twins. For me too.” She glanced sideways at Wonyoung, her gaze lingering for a beat longer. “My days and my nights have become… interesting. A lot less lonely than they used to be.” 

The words sat between them for a moment, heavier than either of them acknowledged. Wonyoung’s chest felt warm not just from the wine, but from the way Yujin had said her nights are less lonely than they used to be like it meant more than she could explain. 

Wonyoung smiled and tried to ease the tension with something lighter. “I guess we’ve built our own little routine now, haven’t we? Remember how it started? That first night I made tea?” 

Yujin’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “And then it happened again the next night. And the night after that.” 

“It’s kind of a weird habit,” Wonyoung teased. “Having tea with my boss every night.” 

“It’s not weird,” Yujin replied immediately, looking her straight in the eye. “I enjoy it.” 

That made Wonyoung’s pulse skip, though she forced herself to keep smiling like the comment hadn’t hit her harder than it should have. 

Yujin leaned back, tilting her head slightly. “You’re twenty-seven now, right? Are you where you imagined you’d be at twenty-seven?” 

Wonyoung thought for a second, then nodded. “I think so. Not exactly how I pictured it, but… close enough.” She tilted her head curiously. “What about you? What were you doing when you were twenty-seven?” 

A small, almost nostalgic sigh escaped Yujin’s lips. “Taking care of newborns.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “I had them when I was twenty-six. That wasn’t exactly my life plan. But… my father wanted me to marry someone he approved of. So I did. It secured my place as CEO.” 

Her voice was calm, but there was a thread of something underneath — bitterness? Regret? Wonyoung couldn’t tell. What she did notice was how Yujin’s eyes seemed to drift for a moment, as if remembering the weight of those decisions, the life she might have lived instead. 

Wonyoung tilted her head slightly, studying Yujin’s profile in the warm glow of the lamp. The CEO’s gaze was far away for a moment, fixed somewhere beyond the rim of her wine glass. 

“Do you… regret it?” Wonyoung asked softly. 

Yujin blinked once, then gave a small, wry smile. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It might not have been part of my life plan. The marriage was perfect but then eventually turned into… well, shit. And—” she hesitated, almost like she was debating if she should say the next part, “—I might have preferred something different, but…” Her eyes softened, and her voice dropped. “The twins are my everything. I’d go through it all again if it meant I’d still have them.” 

A warmth spread in Wonyoung’s chest, and she smiled back. “They are adorable. Sometimes I imagine they’re my kids,” she admitted, a little shyly. 

Yujin’s lips curled into a small grin. “You’re so good with them.” 

“It’s just experience,” Wonyoung replied, shrugging modestly. “I’ve learned the trick — once you know how to get on their side, they’re yours forever.” 

Yujin chuckled quietly, swirling her wine. 

Wonyoung’s eyes flicked over to her again. “How’s… the divorce going?” 

The humor faded from Yujin’s expression. She exhaled through her nose, leaning back against the couch. “Yeonjun still isn’t signing it.” 

Wonyoung frowned, curiosity slipping through. “Does that mean… he wants to get back together?” 

“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Yujin replied without hesitation. “I’m done.” 

Wonyoung took a slow sip of wine, but inside her head, her thoughts were tumbling over themselves. Preferred something different. Yujin had just said it, casually, as if it were nothing. What did she prefer? So the marriage to Yeonjun had been… strategic. A move in her father’s business chess game. 

She found herself blurting out the question before she could think better of it. “Did you… love him?” 

Yujin’s gaze dipped to her glass, then up to meet Wonyoung’s eyes. “Yes,” she said simply, “I did.” 

Wonyoung’s breath caught. “And now?” 

Yujin’s head moved in the faintest shake. “Not anymore.” She took another sip of wine, her eyes still on Wonyoung over the rim of the glass. “What about you?” she asked casually, though there was a faint glint of curiosity behind the question. “Your love life?” 

Wonyoung gave a short laugh, the sound slightly self-deprecating. “My love life? I don’t have one.” 

Yujin’s brows lifted, amused. “Really? I find that hard to believe.” 

Wonyoung tilted her head, smirking a little. “And why is that?” 

Yujin set her glass down on the low table and leaned back, her tone turning playful. “Because… you’re beautiful. And warm. You have this… homey presence that’s so rare. The way you connect with the twins — it’s not just skill, it’s heart. You’re… wife and mother material.” Her lips curved faintly. “That’s what men want in a wife. And on top of that, you cook ridiculously good food. It’s a dangerous combination.” 

Wonyoung’s laugh came out softer this time, and she quickly looked down, trying to hide the heat blooming across her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Yujin’s words that made her skin feel warmer. “You’re flattering me.” 

“I’m just telling the truth.” 

Still smiling faintly, Wonyoung swirled her own glass, her reflection warping in the deep red. “I’ve had a few relationships,” she admitted. “But nothing long-lasting. Honestly… I’ve been single since college.” 

Yujin’s expression shifted into something almost teasing. “Since college? That’s a long time. Why hasn’t the Jang Wonyoung found anyone she fancies since then? Surely, someone’s caught your eye?” 

Wonyoung hesitated, biting her lip, then gave a shy little shrug. “I… guess I just haven’t found anyone I liked enough.” 

Yujin tilted her head, her tone now openly curious. “Then what’s your type?” 

Wonyoung’s fingers tightened slightly on the stem of her glass. The wine in her system made her bold enough to say it, but still, her voice came out a little quieter, almost like she was testing the air. “Actually… I’ve had a long-time crush on you.” 

Yujin froze — subtly, but Wonyoung noticed the stillness in her posture. 

“I… liked you since high school,” Wonyoung went on, her cheeks now fully flushed. “I used to collect food magazines if your name was there, watch you on TV. I’d read every article about you. I… I always dreamt of cooking for you one day, and working in one of your restaurants. I thought it was a stupid dream back then, but…” She gave a small, nervous laugh, gesturing vaguely at the room around them. “…Here I am.” 

Yujin’s lips curved into that unmistakable smirk, dimples deepening in her cheeks as she tilted her head slightly. Her voice was casual on the surface, but there was a deliberate undercurrent in it.

“So… how about now?” 

Wonyoung blinked, tilting her head just a little. “What about now?” she asked, playing dumb, though her pulse had already begun to quicken. 

Yujin didn’t look away. “Do you still like me now?” 

The question hung in the air, unhurried yet heavy, like Yujin was giving her space to answer but also making it impossible to run from it. 

Wonyoung’s fingers tightened around the delicate stem of her glass. Now? Her mind reeled for a heartbeat. 

Now… I like you more than I ever did back then. Back when you were just an image on a glossy magazine cover or a dazzling presence on TV, it was easy to adore you from afar. But this? Getting close enough to see the way you actually are? The way you smile when the twins say something ridiculous, the way your voice softens late at night over tea, the way you carry yourself — beautiful, commanding, sharp… and still so human underneath? 

Her gaze flickered over Yujin’s face, the light catching in her dark eyes, the elegant line of her jaw. Gorgeous. 

But could she say that out loud? Yujin was her boss. And yet… she was the one asking. And she had opened up tonight about her divorce, about her life choices, about regrets she didn’t even call regrets. That was something raw and unpolished, something Wonyoung had never expected to see. Why lie in the face of that? 

She drew in a slow breath, feeling the warmth of the wine in her system embolden her. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I still have a crush on you.” Her eyes didn’t leave Yujin’s. “Even more so now… seeing you up close. Being with you. Getting to know you beyond what everyone else sees.” 

Yujin’s glass lingered at her lips as she tilted it back, eyes locked on Wonyoung over the rim. She set it down again — slowly this time, the sound of crystal kissing the coffee table much louder in the quiet room than it should’ve been. Her dimple carved into her cheek, but this wasn’t the carefree smirk of before — this one had weight behind it. 

“Even more so now, huh?” Her voice was low, drawn out, almost tasting the words as she said them. 

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. Her own glass trembled faintly in her hand, so she set it down beside Yujin’s. Then, as if pulled forward by some invisible thread, she leaned in. Her lashes lowered, her lips parting just slightly. “Yeah,” she whispered — not loud, but the kind of breathy confession that carried a secret delivered straight to Yujin’s skin. 

Yujin let out a soft chuckle, though her eyes didn’t move away from Wonyoung’s for a second. “You know that’s a dangerous thing to say… to your boss.” The teasing lilt in her voice barely masked the huskiness that had crept in. 

Wonyoung swallowed, her throat dry, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, her lips curved into the barest of smiles, and she tilted her chin up, closing the gap just a little more. “Maybe,” she murmured, pulse hammering, “but I mean it.” 

For a moment, the air thickened. Yujin sat back a fraction, only to shift closer a heartbeat later, her shoulder brushing against Wonyoung’s. Her hand, draped along the back of the couch, flexed unconsciously, fingers itching forward until they were hovering just inches from Wonyoung’s hair. 

“Jang Wonyoung…” Yujin said quietly, her tone both warning and wonder. “Ever since you got here, things have been… different. You’re trouble, you know that?” Her lips quirked again, but it wasn’t a real smile — it was something sharper, needier. 

The couch suddenly felt too small, too intimate, as if it was designed to push them together. Their knees brushed. Their breaths tangled. Neither pulled away. 

Then Yujin tilted her head, smirk playing at the corner of her lips, voice low and teasing in that way that sent goosebumps crawling across Wonyoung’s arms. “So… what does someone do when they have a crush on their boss?” 

The words hung in the air like a dare. 

Wonyoung blinked, her chest rising and falling faster now. She didn’t move back — instead, she leaned in more, as if answering without words. Her thoughts spun wildly — she didn’t want to back down, not now, not when Yujin’s voice was velvet and fire at once, not when her eyes darkened in that way that pulled her under. She wanted to prove she was serious, that this wasn’t some tipsy slip of the tongue. 

Yujin’s gaze flicked down — once, brief, to Wonyoung’s lips — before snapping back up. Her voice softened. “You shouldn’t say things like that… unless you mean them.” 

Wonyoung inhaled sharply. I do. The words echoed in her head, louder than the music of her heartbeat. She didn’t even realize she was moving until she did — leaning closer, her knee pressing fully into Yujin’s, her face lifting. 

It felt like gravity, unstoppable. Like they both knew the second they crossed this line, there was no going back. 

Wonyoung swallowed the lump in her throat, the red wine heat in her chest daring her to do what sober, careful Wonyoung might never have done.

“I mean it,” she whispered, her voice almost a purr, low and intoxicating even to her own ears. 

Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in. The world narrowed to the sound of her heartbeat. Wonyoung’s lips brushed Yujin’s — soft, tentative, a test — and when Yujin froze for half a second, Wonyoung thought she had gone too far. 

But then Yujin exhaled sharply, almost like a groan she’d been holding back for months, and pulled Wonyoung closer by the waist. The kiss deepened fast, no hesitation now, and Wonyoung gasped against her mouth as Yujin took over, slow but firm, like claiming what she wanted. 

Wonyoung’s hands slid instinctively up to Yujin’s neck, tangling in her hair, needing to anchor herself because her entire body was melting. Yujin’s hand pressed against her waist, hot and possessive, thumb brushing the bare skin where the slit of her dress parted. 

Yujin’s thoughts were a whirlwind: God, I’ve wanted this. Since the day she moved in. Since the first time she laughed with the twins. She’s always here, always in my head.

Wonyoung’s head spun. She’s kissing me back. An Yujin. The An Yujin — gorgeous, untouchable, cold to everyone else. Her lips are on mine and it’s better than I ever imagined. Better than all the fantasies I used to bury away in my room, looking at her magazine covers, dreaming. 

Her lips moved urgently, almost aggressively, surprising even herself with how much she wanted to taste more. She tilted her head, pressing closer, letting Yujin feel just how much she meant it. 

Yujin smirked into the kiss, responding with equal fire, her hand sliding up Wonyoung’s side, fingers splaying against her ribs. The tension that had been simmering for weeks finally snapped into flame between them, crackling, unstoppable. 

The kiss turned feverish quickly, the kind that made breathing secondary. Yujin pulled Wonyoung closer until there was no space left between them, the slit of Wonyoung’s dress sliding open completely as she half-shifted onto Yujin’s lap. 

Yujin’s hand roamed higher, from waist to ribs to just beneath the swell of her chest, fingers daring, testing, as if asking for permission without words. Wonyoung answered by pressing herself harder into Yujin, her nails scraping lightly at the back of her neck, her tongue parting Yujin’s lips with an eager, uncharacteristically bold sweep. 

The taste of expensive red wine mixed with something purely Yujin — a taste Wonyoung knew she would crave from now on. The more they kissed, the more reckless she became. She tugged at the lapels of Yujin’s blazer, desperate to feel her without the polished layers of her CEO armor. 

Yujin groaned low in her throat, the sound vibrating against Wonyoung’s mouth, and in a swift motion, she guided Wonyoung back against the couch cushions. Wonyoung landed with a soft gasp, her hair spilling out like dark silk over the fabric, her dress slipping further to reveal a stretch of thigh that made Yujin’s eyes darken instantly. 

Yujin hovered above her for the briefest second, their breaths colliding, eyes locked. The weight of what they were doing flashed between them — boss and employee, lines crossed, no going back. But then Wonyoung arched up, sealing their mouths together again, erasing the thought, replacing it with fire. 

Hands tangled everywhere. Yujin’s blazer was half off, Wonyoung’s dress straps teasing down her shoulder. Yujin’s hand slid boldly along Wonyoung’s thigh, following the curve upward, and Wonyoung shuddered, a soft moan escaping against her lips. 

That sound nearly undid Yujin. She deepened the kiss until it was hungry, urgent, the kind of kiss that had no patience, no elegance, just raw desire. 

Wonyoung’s mind raced in fragments: She’s touching me. She wants me. This is happening. God, this is happening. Her body responded before her thoughts could catch up — arching, clinging, kissing like she’d been waiting years for this moment, because she had. 

The couch groaned under their shifting weight, the air filled with the heat of their panting breaths and the wet sound of desperate kisses. Clothes became obstacles, hands couldn’t stay still, every brush of skin against skin setting off sparks. 

Yujin’s self-control frayed like loose thread the moment Wonyoung tugged her blazer off completely and tossed it aside. Now only in her silk camisole and slacks, Yujin felt exposed in a way she never did in her glass-walled boardroom. But with Wonyoung beneath her, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with desire — it wasn’t weakness. It was raw power coursing through her. 

Wonyoung’s fingers slid beneath the hem of Yujin’s camisole, fingertips brushing bare skin. Yujin hissed softly into her mouth, and that tiny reaction made Wonyoung bolder. She slipped her hands higher, over taut stomach, until she pushed the fabric up and Yujin yanked it off herself in one swift motion. 

The sight made Wonyoung’s breath hitch. God, she’d seen An Yujin in magazines, on glossy spreads looking untouchable, and now she was right here, half-naked above her, warm skin pressed to hers. Wonyoung whispered against Yujin’s lips, “You’re so beautiful.” 

Yujin’s answer was another hungry kiss, her hands gripping at the straps of Wonyoung’s dress, sliding one down her shoulder, then the other. The silk pooled at her waist, revealing her skin, the delicate lace of her bra. Yujin stilled for half a second, her eyes sweeping over Wonyoung with awe, and hunger rolled into one.

“You don’t know,” Yujin murmured against her collarbone, kissing down the length of her neck, biting gently until Wonyoung gasped. “You don’t know what you do to me, Jang Wonyoung.” 

Wonyoung’s head tipped back, hands clutching desperately at Yujin’s bare shoulders. Her body felt like fire — everywhere Yujin touched, heat bloomed. She arched as Yujin’s mouth traveled lower, down to the swell of her breasts, lips brushing over lace before tugging at it with her teeth. Wonyoung let out a broken moan, her thighs tightening around Yujin’s hips. 

 The sound nearly unraveled Yujin. Her hand slid boldly up Wonyoung’s thigh, beneath the slit of the dress, tracing higher, higher until her fingers brushed heat through thin fabric. Wonyoung gasped, hips jerking at the touch, and Yujin groaned against her skin. 

“Tell me,” Yujin’s voice was husky, low, commanding. Her fingers teased, keeping Wonyoung on the edge. “Tell me you want this.” 

Wonyoung’s mind was a haze, her body already betraying her answer with how it moved against Yujin’s hand. Her voice came breathless, needy, “I want this. I want you.” 

That was all Yujin needed. Clothes stripped with hurried hands — Wonyoung’s dress sliding off entirely, Yujin’s slacks undone and discarded. Skin against skin, finally, nothing between them. 

The couch became a battlefield of limbs and gasps and kisses that went sloppy from how desperate they were. Yujin’s body pressed Wonyoung down, strong but trembling with want. Wonyoung wrapped herself around Yujin, nails raking down her back, pulling her closer until there was no space, no air, no thought left. 

“Y-Yujin…” Wonyoung gasped when she felt warm lips close around her nipple, her back arching off the couch instinctively. The sudden jolt of pleasure had her fingers tangling in Yujin’s hair, holding her there as if she’d disappear. Yujin sucked softly at first, then harder, her tongue circling, teasing, tugging with her teeth just enough to make Wonyoung cry out. 

Her other breast wasn’t neglected either — Yujin’s hand kneaded and rolled the soft mound, thumb brushing over the hardened peak, squeezing in rhythm with the way her mouth worked the other. 

“God—” Wonyoung moaned, writhing under her, her legs shifting restlessly. “That feels—so good—” 

Yujin pulled back only to switch sides, giving the same slow torture to the other breast. She sucked deep, groaning low in her throat at the taste of her, the feel of Wonyoung trembling beneath her mouth. Her dimples even showed faintly when she glanced up, lips still latched around sensitive skin. “So responsive…” she teased, breath hot. 

And when Yujin’s hand finally slipped beneath the last barrier, touching her where she ached the most, Wonyoung cried out, arching hard into her, lips parting in pure surrender. Yujin swallowed the sound with a kiss, devouring it, devouring her, like she’d been starving all this time. 

“Fuck,” Yujin whispered against her lips, kissing her harder as her fingers slid through slick folds, teasing, spreading the wetness across swollen flesh. Wonyoung gasped into her mouth, hips jerking helplessly at the touch. 

“Yujin—” her voice broke into a moan when Yujin’s thumb pressed gently against her clit, circling, slow and deliberate. The teasing drove her insane. Her nails dug into Yujin’s back, dragging red lines across her skin. “Please—don’t tease me…” 

That plea snapped something in Yujin. With a low groan, she slid one finger inside, and Wonyoung’s back arched off the couch, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Tight. Hot. Gripping around her like velvet. 

“God, Wonyoung,” Yujin breathed, forehead pressing to hers as she thrust slowly, letting her adjust. “You feel incredible.” 

Wonyoung clung to her, panting, kissing her feverishly between gasps, until the need overwhelmed her. “More,” she begged. “Yujin, please, more.” 

Yujin couldn’t deny her. She pushed a second finger in, stretching her, filling her deeper. Wonyoung cried out, head tipping back, hair spilling across the couch cushions like a halo as her body shuddered. Yujin’s free hand gripped her thigh, pushing it open wider, so she could thrust deeper, harder, curling her fingers just right until she felt the way Wonyoung clenched desperately around her. 

The younger woman was falling apart beneath her, every breath a moan, every movement frantic, grinding into Yujin’s hand like she couldn’t get close enough. Yujin’s thumb found her clit again, rubbing circles in rhythm with her thrusts, faster now, and Wonyoung’s cries grew louder, higher, broken. 

“Yujin—I—oh my god—” 

Yujin kissed the words away, swallowing every sound, pushing her harder, deeper, relentless until Wonyoung was trembling uncontrollably. Her walls tightened around Yujin’s fingers, her whole body going taut before crashing down in waves. She came hard, gasping Yujin’s name into her mouth, clinging so tight her nails left crescents on Yujin’s shoulders. 

She slowed only after she felt every pulse, every aftershock, drawing it out until Wonyoung whimpered from oversensitivity and grabbed her wrist weakly. Yujin finally stilled, pulling her soaked fingers out and bringing them to her lips. She held Wonyoung’s dazed gaze as she sucked them clean, slow, deliberate, moaning softly at the taste. 

The sound, the sight, the sensation — it was too much. Wonyoung couldn’t take being spoiled anymore without giving something back. She pushed at Yujin’s shoulder gently, enough to make her pause. Her chest rose and fell, flushed, nipples wet and aching. 

“My turn,” Wonyoung whispered, voice husky, surprising herself with how bold it came out. 

Yujin blinked, a flash of intrigue sparking in her eyes, but she leaned back obediently, resting against the cushions. Her shirt was already rumpled and half-unbuttoned from the chaos earlier, her toned skin peeking through. Wonyoung straddled her lap, dizzy from the rush of wine and desire, her palms sliding up Yujin’s chest, slowly pushing the shirt open further. 

Her lips followed her hands. She pressed kisses across Yujin’s collarbone, down the line of her throat, then lower, down the center of her chest. Yujin’s breath hitched when she realized Wonyoung was returning the favor — her mouth closing around her breast this time, sucking her nipple until it pebbled against her tongue. 

“Fuck—” Yujin hissed, head tipping back against the couch, one hand flying to the back of Wonyoung’s head to grip her hair. “Wonyoung…” 

The younger woman moaned softly against her skin, switching sides, kissing and sucking until both hardened peaks glistened with her spit. She drew back for a moment, flushed, lips swollen, and looked up at Yujin through her lashes. The sight nearly undid her — sweet, shy Jang Wonyoung, licking her lips after marking her chest. 

“You taste good,” Wonyoung murmured, voice soft but dripping with heat. 

Yujin cursed under her breath, dragging her down into another desperate kiss, but this time Wonyoung didn’t just melt into her. Her hands slid lower, tracing every inch of skin until they hovered just above Yujin’s waistband. She hesitated only a beat — long enough to make Yujin’s eyes darken with need — before slipping inside, fingers brushing bare, burning skin. Warm fingers pressed tentatively against her lower stomach before sliding down further, palm molding over the heat between her thighs. Even through the thin fabric, the touch made her gasp. 

“Wonyoung…” 

But Wonyoung only smirked faintly against her lips, bolder than she ever thought she could be. She pressed harder, rubbing slow circles over the damp fabric, feeling it grow wetter under her palm. The friction made Yujin’s hips jerk upward into her hand, chasing more. 

“You’re… already so wet,” Wonyoung breathed, half in awe, half in disbelief, her face flushing at her own words. 

“Because of you,” Yujin groaned, gripping her wrist as if she couldn’t decide whether to stop her or push her deeper. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat, her chest heaving as Wonyoung ground her palm firmer, teasing her with every drag. 

The older woman’s low moans filled the room, broken and unrestrained. Wonyoung’s stomach twisted with arousal at the sound, at the realization she was the one pulling it out of her. 

“Wonyoung…” Yujin gasped again, this time almost a plea. 

That was all it took for the younger woman to slip past the fabric at last, sliding her fingers beneath. The heat was overwhelming — wet, hot, and waiting. Her fingertips brushed slick folds, and Yujin’s whole body shuddered under her, a strangled moan escaping. 

“God—” Yujin cursed, biting her lip as Wonyoung’s fingers explored, parting her, teasing her entrance without slipping in yet. 

“You feel… amazing,” Wonyoung whispered, almost dazed, her forehead pressing to Yujin’s temple as her fingers stroked slow, deliberate circles. She reveled in the way Yujin’s thighs trembled, in the way her hips lifted to chase more, in the desperate sounds spilling from her lips. 

Yujin’s hand clawed at the couch, her other gripping Wonyoung’s shoulder tightly as if to anchor herself. “Stop teasing,” she groaned, voice hoarse. 

Wonyoung smiled against her ear, emboldened by her reaction. “You told me I was trouble, remember?” 

And then — finally — she slid two fingers inside, burying them deep in one smooth thrust. Yujin’s cry echoed against her lips as she clenched around her, arching off the couch, completely giving in. 

Wonyoung kissed her hard, swallowing the moans, her fingers working slow at first, then faster, curling up to find every spot that made Yujin tremble. She couldn’t believe it — she had dreamed of Yujin for years, but reality was even better: the way she looked undone beneath her, the way she whispered her name, the way she clung to her as though she was the only thing keeping her grounded. 

“Faster — please—” Yujin gasped, her hand covering Wonyoung’s, guiding her rhythm, her legs spreading wider against the cushions. 

And Wonyoung obeyed, her fingers driving deeper, her thumb finding Yujin’s clit, rubbing in frantic circles. Yujin’s cries grew louder, rawer, her body tightening until she was trembling all over, close to breaking apart in Wonyoung’s arms. 

Yujin’s body was trembling violently, every muscle pulled taut as Wonyoung worked her faster — two fingers curling deep, thumb pressing hard against her clit in perfect rhythm. 

“Wonyoung — God — don’t stop—” Yujin gasped, her voice breaking, raw with need. Her head fell back against the couch, dark hair spilling over the cushions as her chest heaved. Her legs, already spread wide, clamped tighter around Wonyoung’s hand, grinding helplessly into her palm. 

Wonyoung couldn’t take her eyes off her—the powerful, elegant CEO, the woman she had admired from afar for years, was now unraveling under her. Yujin’s face flushed crimson, lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure. The sounds she made — low, desperate moans and sharp gasps—ignited something primal inside Wonyoung. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Wonyoung whispered breathlessly, pressing her lips against Yujin’s jaw, her temple, her ear, anywhere she could reach as her hand kept working. “Come for me.” 

That did it. 

Yujin’s body arched high off the couch, her back curving, as a strangled cry tore from her throat. Her walls clenched tight around Wonyoung’s fingers, pulsing hard, soaking her hand as wave after wave crashed through her. Her thighs shook violently, her nails dug into Wonyoung’s shoulders, her whole body jerking helplessly as she came undone. 

“Ah—! Wonyoung—” She cried her name, voice breaking, trembling as the orgasm ripped through her, harder than anything she’d felt in years. 

Wonyoung kissed her through it, swallowing her moans, never slowing her hand until Yujin collapsed back against the couch, panting, trembling, her body still twitching with aftershocks. 

Finally, Wonyoung gentled her touch, fingers slipping out carefully, her palm stroking soothingly over Yujin’s thigh as the older woman tried to catch her breath. 

Yujin’s chest was heaving, her lips red and swollen, her hair a mess. She looked wrecked — wrecked by Wonyoung—and the thought made the younger woman dizzy with want. 

When Yujin finally opened her eyes, they were hazy, glassy, and full of something raw — desire, vulnerability, disbelief. She let out a shaky laugh, still breathless, and whispered hoarsely, “What… are you doing to me?” 

Wonyoung blushed, but she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to Yujin’s again, tasting her. “Proving I meant it.” 

 

Chapter 8: tiptoeing through the morning

The next morning came far too quickly. Wonyoung woke with a jolt, the faint light of dawn already slipping through the curtains. Her head was a little heavy, not from too much wine, but from the weight of memory — hot lips, desperate hands, Yujin’s voice catching in her throat when she fell apart under her. Heat flushed across Wonyoung’s cheeks as she sat up on the couch in the office. Yujin was still asleep, her head tilted back, one arm lazily sprawled where Wonyoung’s body had been moments ago. 

Wonyoung’s heart skipped. God, what did we do… 

She slipped away carefully, fixing her dress and hair in a hurry before padding off to her own room. She changed into soft pajamas, and by the time she was about to wash her face, the household clock reminded her — the twins! School, morning. Breakfast. She hurried into the kitchen, a little breathless. 

The kitchen was already faintly alive with sound — the fridge humming, the clink of dishes as she pulled them out. She set the waffle iron to heat, whisked batter in a bowl, and began slicing strawberries and bananas with sharp precision. She almost moved too fast, as if cooking with urgency would quiet the whirlwind of images that kept sneaking back into her head. 

Yujin’s mouth on her, hot and unrelenting. The way her fingers had moved, firm, knowing. The way Wonyoung herself had tugged Yujin closer, taking control, tasting her skin, her lips, her breath. God… she could still feel it if she closed her eyes. 

Her knife slipped slightly against the cutting board, and she shook her head to clear it, biting down a nervous smile. 

That was when the twins padded in, messy-haired in their pajamas, rubbing sleep from their eyes. 

“Wonyoung unnie! Good morning!” Hyunseo’s bright little voice called out as she clambered onto a stool. 

Wonyoung turned slightly. “Good morning!”

“You still have makeup on!” She tilted her head curiously, pointing at the faint eyeliner.

Before Wonyoung could react, Jinu let out a mischievous laugh, his grin wide and devilish. “Noona didn’t wash her face last night! Ew!” 

He burst into giggles, clearly proud of his observation, while Hyunseo giggled too, covering her mouth. 

Wonyoung froze, heat climbing up her neck. “Ah — well — sometimes grown-ups get too tired,” she tried to brush it off with a laugh, plating the first waffle quickly as if to distract them.  

Inside though, her stomach flipped. If only they knew. If only they knew what I was doing instead of showering. What their mother was doing to me. 

The images flashed mercilessly: Yujin’s strong hand gripping her waist, her mouth closing over her breast, hot and wet, pulling a gasp from her throat. The look in Yujin’s eyes — hungry, focused, worshipful. Wonyoung pressed her lips together, forcing herself back into the present, arranging sliced fruit on top of the waffle with too much concentration. 

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she said, voice just a little too tight. “So sit, sit — before it gets cold.” 

The twins didn’t notice her fluster, already bickering lightly about who got more strawberries. Wonyoung let them chatter, but her thoughts kept sliding back to the night before. The taste of wine on Yujin’s tongue. The sound of her voice breaking. The realization that they had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. 

Wonyoung had just set down another plate of golden waffles, cut fruit glistening on top, when she heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind her. 

Her back stiffened instinctively, like she already knew. 

Yujin entered the dining area, hair brushed out but still carrying the faintest wave from sleep, her face fresh and bare. She had changed into her own soft pajama set, a pale color that hung loosely on her tall frame, casual in a way that still somehow made her look effortlessly elegant. The twins immediately lit up, springing in their seats. 

“Mommy!” Hyunseo beamed, waving her fork in the air.

“Morning, Mom,” Jinu added, already chewing. 

“Morning, loves,” Yujin replied with a soft smile, her voice husky with the remnants of sleep. She leaned down to ruffle Jinu’s hair, then kissed the top of Hyunseo’s head before settling into her chair. 

Wonyoung turned with the fruit bowl still in her hands. For the briefest moment, she forgot how to breathe. 

Because all she could see — flashes, too vivid — was Yujin from last night. Yujin’s head thrown back against the couch. Yujin’s breathless voice whispering her name. Yujin’s body, bare and flushed, under her hands. And above her hands, too, when Yujin had taken control. 

Now here she was, calm, collected… pajama-clad. And only Wonyoung knew. 

Their eyes met. 

“Good morning,” Yujin said, her tone perfectly even, almost careful. 

“G-Good morning,” Wonyoung stammered, her voice breaking on the first syllable. Her ears burned as she quickly set the fruit down and fussed with the plates to avoid Yujin’s gaze. 

They sat down at the same time, directly across from one another, the table suddenly feeling smaller than it ever had before. Wonyoung dropped her eyes to the table, unable to hold Yujin’s gaze without her mind betraying her with heated images. 

Hyunseo blinked between them, chewing thoughtfully. “Why aren’t Wonyoung unnie and Mommy eating?” 

“Oh, right—” Wonyoung nearly jumped, grabbing the serving plate. “Here, um, let me get some waffles…” Her fingers fumbled with the tongs as she hurried to place waffles onto Yujin’s plate, then her own. 

“Thank you,” Yujin said simply, but her eyes lingered for just a beat longer than necessary, and Wonyoung felt the weight of it like a touch on her skin. 

Jinu squinted at her, tilting his head. “Wonyoung noona, are you okay? You look… weird.” 

Wonyoung let out a nervous laugh, tugging at her sleeve. “I’m fine, just — maybe a little sleepy still.” 

Hyunseo, never one to miss a beat, grinned with mischief. “Maybe unnie’s just tired from last night.” She giggled, stabbing another strawberry with her fork. 

The words hit Wonyoung square in the chest, almost choking her. She froze, heat crawling up her neck as her mind immediately filled with exactly what she had been doing last night. 

Across the table, Yujin chuckled low under her breath, a sound warm and amused, almost indulgent. 

The sound made Wonyoung’s stomach flip. Last night was tiring, she thought, pulse quickening. God, was it ever. 

She dared not meet Yujin’s eyes again, but she could feel it — the ghost of that chuckle, the way Yujin’s lips had curved around hers, the way those same lips had… 

Wonyoung shoved a bite of waffle into her mouth to anchor herself, cheeks blazing red. 

Jinu had been eyeing the side table in the living room since he sat down, where a neat little stack of wrapped presents still sat untouched, ribbons gleaming in the morning light. He finally swallowed a mouthful of waffle and piped up. 

“Wonyoung noona,” he said with all the casual bluntness of a child, “did you have fun yesterday for your birthday? The presents are still not open.” 

Wonyoung froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Oh. Right. The gifts. Her eyes darted to the pile in the corner of her vision. She hadn’t even touched them last night. 

“I— yes,” she said quickly, cheeks warming as she smiled at him. “I did have fun. Really fun.” 

Before she could steer the conversation away, Yujin’s voice joined in smoothly from across the table, low and edged with something that made Wonyoung’s heart skip. 

“She did seem like she had fun,” Yujin said, leaning back in her chair, swirling her coffee with an almost casual air. Then she tilted her head, dimples flashing as her gaze met Wonyoung’s across the table. “A birthday well spent.” 

The look in her eyes made the words linger, heavy with double meaning. 

Wonyoung’s fork clinked against her plate as she quickly set it down. Her face went red immediately, so hot she thought steam might actually be rising from her skin. 

“A-ah, yes,” she stammered, fumbling to straighten her napkin. “A birthday… well spent indeed.” 

Her voice trailed into awkwardness, but the twins didn’t notice — they were too busy with their waffles. 

Hyunseo grinned suddenly, her cheeks puffed with fruit. “When we get back from school later, can we open the presents together? I want to see what unnie gets!” 

“Me too!” Jinu chimed in, bouncing a little in his seat. “You can’t open them without us.” 

Wonyoung laughed, relieved for the shift in conversation. “Of course not,” she promised, reaching to pat Jinu’s hand lightly. “I’ll wait for you both. I wouldn’t dream of opening them without my little helpers.” 

The twins cheered, clapping their hands against the table. 

But Wonyoung’s smile softened as her thoughts drifted for a second. The truth? she admitted silently, her fork turning idle circles on her plate. She hadn’t even thought about the presents last night. 

Not once. 

Because she had been busy — so busy — with Yujin. Yujin’s hands roaming her body, Yujin’s quiet groans in the dark. They had both been too wrapped up in each other to even think the stack of carefully wrapped boxes. 

She ducked her head quickly, forcing her attention back on her plate, as if the sight of a waffle triangle could anchor her down. Still, the thought tickled in the back of her mind: I wonder what kind of gifts are even waiting for me over there… 

After breakfast. The twins were a flurry of small footsteps and chatter, tugging at socks and shirts while Wonyoung crouched down to help button collars and smooth over wrinkled sleeves. Her hands fixing Jinu’s backpack straps, then brushing Hyunseo’s hair to the side with a motherly fuss she wasn’t supposed to own. 

At the table, Yujin lingered with her coffee mug cupped loosely in both hands. She was still in her silk pajamas. She looked softer now, but also strangely absent, her gaze drifting somewhere past the twins’ laughter. 

When the children finally turned to her, they blinked in unison, their voices lilting with concern. “Mommy, why are you still in pajamas?” Hyunseo asked, tilting her head like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. 

Yujin lowered the mug, lips curving in a faint, tired smile. “I won’t go to work today.” 

Jinu frowned immediately, a tiny crease forming between his brows. “Why not? Are you sick?” His tone dipped with sadness, already imagining the worst. 

Wonyoung, standing a little behind them, felt her chest tighten. Sick? Her eyes darted to Yujin. Was she? 

Yujin shook her head, brushing it off. “Just a headache. I’ll be fine.” 

But the twins weren’t convinced until both leaned forward to kiss her cheeks, soft and hurried. “Rest well, Mommy,” they said, their little voices carrying a kind of earnest worry only children could give. 

Watching the scene, Wonyoung bit down on her lip. Inside her head, thoughts started to tangle.

A headache? Is she really sick? Her mind darted back to the night before, replaying every moment. Was it… because of me? Was I too rough? Did I push her too far? Oh god, what if she’s sick because of me? The thought made her palms sweat, the warmth in her chest curdle into guilt. 

She bowed her head quickly, trying to shake it off, but the sight of Yujin sipping her coffee again, eyes slightly shadowed, only made the doubt louder. 

Yujin’s voice broke the spiral, steady and calm as she turned to her children. “Be good at school today, hm?” 

Hyunseo and Jinu nodded seriously, as though given a great mission. With backpacks slung on, they lined up by the door just as the elevator bell chimed. 

Bongsan ahjussi appeared in the hallway. He greeted them with a bow, taking the twins’ bags with care. The children waved with bright smiles, bouncing on their heels before disappearing into the corridor hand-in-hand with the ahjussi. 

“Bye, Mommy! Bye, Wonyoung-noona!”

“Rest well, Mommy!” 

Their voices echoed down the hall until the doors swallowed them away. 

The air in the penthouse shifted immediately — quieter, heavier. Yujin and Wonyoung stepped back inside together, the soft click of the door sealing off the outside world, along with the cameras in the main hall. 

No audience. No twins. No reason to pretend. 

They paused just past the threshold, and slowly, almost hesitantly, their eyes found each other. 

 Wonyoung adjusted the hem of her pajama top nervously, glancing at Yujin who leaned against the wall, still in her soft cotton pajamas, hair loose and slightly mussed in a way that made her look devastatingly beautiful. 

“Yujin,” Wonyoung asked softly as they stepped back inside, “are you really sick? Do you want me to get some medicine? Or maybe I can make soup—” 

Before she could move toward the kitchen, Yujin’s hand shot out, wrapping gently but firmly around her wrist. Wonyoung froze. 

Yujin shook her head, her voice low, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not sick.” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes glinting. “Maybe just a little headache… from the alcohol last night.” 

Wonyoung’s stomach sank. Oh god. Her thoughts spun out of control in an instant. Was she that drunk? Did she even know what we did? Her throat tightened as guilt surged through her chest. What if she doesn’t remember? What if I took advantage? God, Wonyoung, what were you thinking having sex with a drunk woman? 

Her voice cracked slightly as she forced herself to speak. “So… you were drunk last night?” she whispered, eyes downcast, already feeling shame creep into her cheeks. 

Yujin chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, immediately pulling her out of that spiral. As they walked toward the kitchen, Yujin brushed her shoulder against Wonyoung’s and said, “No. Not drunk. Like you, I was just tipsy.” She glanced sideways at her, her dimples flashing faintly. “I remember everything.” 

Wonyoung’s breath hitched, relief flooding through her so suddenly her knees nearly gave out. Her heart pounded as Yujin closed the small distance between them, until Wonyoung found her back pressed against the cool marble counter. 

Yujin caged her in effortlessly, one hand braced on the countertop beside her, the other sliding up to lightly brush her hair back from her face. The air between them crackled. Her voice dropped, husky, her lips so close Wonyoung could feel the warmth of her breath. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” Yujin confessed, her eyes dark and unwavering. “Your lips. Your skin. The way you feel…” Her voice dipped, almost a whisper. “That’s all I want today.” 

Wonyoung gasped, her hand clutching at the edge of the counter as her chest rose and fell quickly. The relief that Yujin not only remembered but wanted more overwhelmed her, mixing with the raw hunger rising inside her. 

Yujin’s thumb grazed her jawline, teasing. “So tell me, Wonyoung… do you want to do it again?” Her lips ghosted so close to hers that Wonyoung’s pulse stuttered. “While it’s just us here, in the whole penthouse?” 

The words sent a shiver racing down Wonyoung’s spine. She gasped again, her body moving before her brain caught up, arms sliding desperately around Yujin’s neck. “Fuck yes,” she breathed, her voice breaking with how much she meant it. 

Yujin’s smile deepened for half a second before she crushed her mouth against Wonyoung’s. The kiss was immediate, heated, and needy — none of last night’s hesitation, no shyness left, only fire. Wonyoung’s hands tangled in Yujin’s hair as she pulled her closer, pressing her whole body against her boss, her long-time crush, her everything. 

The red wine may have lowered their walls last night, but this — this was pure clarity. They both knew exactly what they wanted. 

The kiss deepened until Wonyoung’s back arched against the marble, her breath coming out in desperate little gasps. Yujin’s hand slid to her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her pajama top. 

“God…” Yujin muttered against her mouth, kissing her harder, more urgently, “you drive me insane.” 

The countertop pressed into Wonyoung’s lower back as Yujin lifted her slightly, hoisting her just enough so she was perched on the cold marble edge. The shock of it made her gasp, but Yujin swallowed that sound instantly, her tongue sliding against hers, hungry and unrestrained. 

Wonyoung’s hands were everywhere — in Yujin’s hair, tugging at the hem of her pajama shirt, gripping her shoulders. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, every nerve screaming more, more, more. 

Yujin broke away just long enough to look at her, eyes blazing, lips swollen. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” she breathed, her forehead pressing to Wonyoung’s. 

Wonyoung swallowed hard, whispering back, “I think I do.” And then, emboldened, she yanked Yujin closer by the collar and crushed their lips together again, fierce and demanding. 

The pajama top slipped from Wonyoung’s shoulder as Yujin’s mouth trailed down, teeth grazing her skin, making her shiver violently. “Yujin…” she gasped, tilting her head back, giving Yujin space to mark, to taste. 

Yujin’s hands were firm at her thighs now, spreading them slightly against the counter edge, pulling herself between them. The sharp edge of marble dug into the back of Wonyoung’s legs, but she didn’t care — the danger of it, the rawness, only fueled the fire racing through her. 

Her fingers slipped under Yujin’s shirt this time, tracing the hot planes of her skin, her toned stomach, making Yujin groan low into her throat. Wonyoung’s nails dragged lightly, teasing, until Yujin growled and pressed their bodies flush together, grinding against her right there, against the countertop. 

Wonyoung gasped, clutching at her desperately. God, yes. Right here. Right now. 

 With a low groan, Yujin tugged at the buttons of Wonyoung’s pajama top, popping them one by one with impatience until the fabric fell open, exposing flushed skin still carrying faint marks from last night. Wonyoung bit her lip, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs as Yujin’s eyes darkened at the sight. 

Her lips trailing hot, desperate kisses down her collarbone until she reached the swell of her breasts. With a husky groan, she wrapped her mouth around one nipple, sucking hard, her tongue teasing in slow circles. 

“Yujin — ahh…” Wonyoung’s cry echoed in the kitchen, her back arching as her fingers clutched at Yujin’s hair. Her pajama top hung uselessly around her arms, wide open, her chest flushed and vulnerable under Yujin’s mouth. 

“God, you’re dangerous,” Yujin breathed, and without waiting for permission, she slipped her hands lower, pulling at the waistband of Wonyoung’s pajama bottoms. Wonyoung let out a shaky laugh, half nerves and half desire, before lifting her hips to help Yujin slide them down. 

The cool air hit her bare skin for only a moment before Yujin’s fingers were there, hot and demanding, pressing against her need. Wonyoung’s head fell back, a broken moan escaping her lips as her hands tangled in Yujin’s hair. 

“Yujin—” her voice cracked, breathless, desperate. 

Yujin kissed her fiercely, swallowing the sound, her fingers slipping inside her, curling just right. Wonyoung whimpered, arching into her, the countertop digging into her thighs but she didn’t care — she just wanted more. 

But Wonyoung wasn’t just going to let herself be undone. Bracing her thighs around Yujin’s waist, she leaned forward, her breath mixing with Yujin’s, and slipped her hand boldly into Yujin’s pajama bottoms. The sharp gasp Yujin gave against her breast nearly undid her. 

“You’re so wet already,” Wonyoung whispered, half in disbelief, half in awe. 

“Shut up,” Yujin growled, but her voice trembled when Wonyoung’s fingers slid inside her, curling upward with instinctive precision. Yujin’s hips jerked forward, her teeth grazing Wonyoung’s nipple as she moaned helplessly. 

Not to be outdone, Yujin shoved her fingers into Wonyoung in return, her pace relentless. The counter rocked faintly beneath them as they clung to each other, mouths crashing in sloppy, breathless kisses, their gasps muffled against lips, neck, and skin. 

It was raw, reckless, both of them moving like they couldn’t get close enough. Wonyoung’s thighs trembled where they clamped around Yujin’s hips, her moans coming in ragged waves as Yujin’s fingers drove her higher, faster. Yujin’s free hand gripped Wonyoung’s breast tightly, thumb flicking her nipple before dragging her mouth down again to suck greedily. 

“Wonyoung—fuck—” Yujin broke the kiss, her forehead pressed to Wonyoung’s shoulder, her voice cracking with need. 

Wonyoung bit her lip hard, fighting the cry threatening to rip free as she pumped her fingers faster inside Yujin, feeling her walls flutter around her touch. “You feel so good… god, Yujin…” 

The tension snapped at nearly the same moment — Wonyoung’s back arched off the countertop as pleasure ripped through her, crying out against Yujin’s neck. Yujin’s own climax followed, her entire body shaking, her teeth sinking into Wonyoung’s shoulder to muffle her scream as Wonyoung’s fingers pushed her over the edge. 

When it finally ebbed, Yujin collapsed against Wonyoung’s chest, still panting, her lips brushing sweaty skin. Wonyoung’s trembling fingers slid out of her, resting on her hip instead as she tried to catch her breath. 

When it finally ended, Yujin collapsed against Wonyoung’s chest, still panting, her lips brushing sweaty skin. Wonyoung’s trembling fingers slid out of her, resting on her hip instead as she tried to catch her breath. 

The air was thick with the scent of sex and waffles, the sunlight spilling across the kitchen like a spotlight on their disheveled, sinful state. 

“Fuck…” Yujin murmured hoarsely against Wonyoung’s skin, pressing a lazy kiss to her breast, “…we’re in so much trouble.” 

Wonyoung laughed breathlessly, still trembling, still dizzy, and pulled her closer. 

***

The morning stretched lazily after the twins left and after their kitchen romance. Wonyoung had meant to start tidying, but instead she found herself back on the couch with Yujin, pajama tops loose, their bodies angled toward each other. Yujin’s hand was hooked at the hem of her shirt, teasing, roaming, while Wonyoung curled closer, lips brushing along Yujin’s collarbone before kissing up to her mouth again. Their kisses were unhurried but deep, sweetly intoxicating, broken only by soft giggles when one of them shifted and the fabric of their pajamas rustled. 

Yujin’s dimple flashed as she murmured, “I could stay like this all day.”

“Me too…” Wonyoung whispered against her lips, drunk on the warmth, on the feeling of Yujin’s palm sliding up her side. 

They were so wrapped up in each other, Yujin’s pajama top completely undone again, Wonyoung half-sprawled over her lap, that the sudden beep of the door code unlocking nearly sent them both tumbling to the floor. 

Yujin froze, eyes widening, then hissed, “Shit — the cleaner. Hye-ran’s here.” 

In an instant, the spell shattered. Wonyoung scrambled upright, fumbling to fix her top, face burning. Yujin was already pulling her shirt closed, fingers clumsy on the buttons as she muttered under her breath, “Why is she early today of all days?” 

They split like guilty teenagers — Yujin grabbing the tablet from the coffee table, sinking into the armchair as if she’d been “working” this whole time. Wonyoung bolted for the kitchen, heart hammering, snatching up the dish towel to make herself look busy. 

The front door opened fully and Hye-ran’s voice rang out, cheerful as always. “Good morning!” 

Wonyoung forced her voice steady, answering back from the sink. “Good morning, Hye-ran-ssi.” She tried not to look like her heart was still racing, or like her lips were still tingling from Yujin’s kisses. 

Hye-ran stepped in with her cleaning supplies, pausing as the smell of waffles and fruit still lingered warmly in the air. She smiled as she spotted Wonyoung at the sink. “The kitchen smells amazing. Breakfast must have been delicious. You always make it feel so homey here.” 

Wonyoung’s hands faltered on the plate she was rinsing, cheeks heating instantly. Homey. God… if only she knew what else had been cooking this morning… Her body still hummed from Yujin’s touch, the memory of being spread open on the kitchen top searing through her mind. 

Trying to cover her blush, she smiled quickly and said, “I packed some extra food from last night for you. It’s in the fridge.”

“Oh, thank you, Wonyoung-ssi. Belated Happy birthday. You’re so thoughtful,” Hye-ran said warmly, setting her bag aside. Then, as if it were the most casual thing, she added, “And you look beautiful this morning.” 

That nearly undid Wonyoung. She bit down a squeak, bowing her head to hide the way her face burned even hotter. “T-thank you,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Beautiful? If only you knew I just spent the last hour kissing our boss until my lips were swollen. God, get a grip, Wonyoung. 

Behind her, she could hear the faint rustle of Yujin shifting in the armchair, probably smirking into her tablet, and the knowledge made Wonyoung’s stomach flutter all over again. 

***

By the time Hye-ran left, the penthouse was spotless again, sunlight spilling warmly across the polished floors. Wonyoung had curled up on the couch with the TV on, distracted by a variety show, and still replaying everything that had happened earlier. Her body still carried the faint hum of Yujin’s lips, Yujin’s hands, and every time she blinked she saw flashes of the morning — her own pajama top tugged open, Yujin’s hushed laugh against her skin. 

She hadn’t seen Yujin since Hye-ran came in. The older woman had slipped into her room, door closed, and hadn’t reappeared for a while. Wonyoung told herself Yujin was probably resting, or busy with some emails, so she kept her distance. 

It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Yujin emerged, already dressed sharply — a sleek dress and a perfectly tailored blazer, hair brushed into place, her whole presence transformed from the pajama-clad woman kissing her breathless on the couch to CEO An Yujin. 

Wonyoung sat up straighter without realizing, eyes trailing her figure. “You’re going out?” she asked softly. 

Yujin smoothed the sleeve of her blazer, then looked over at her with a small smile. “I wasn’t planning to,” she admitted. “I wanted to… stay home today.” Her tone dropped at the end, suggestive, making Wonyoung’s cheeks warm instantly. But then she sighed, almost regretful. “Hanni just called. There’s a meeting I can’t miss. So I have to.” 

Wonyoung nodded quickly, understanding. “Of course. Work comes first.” She tried to sound casual, but inside she was a little disappointed she wouldn’t get to spend the rest of the day wrapped up with Yujin. 

Yujin crossed the room to her, heels clicking softly on the polished floor. Without warning, she slipped an arm around Wonyoung’s waist and drew her close, her voice lowering into a husky whisper against Wonyoung’s ear. “It might be for the best I go in anyway… because I swear, I can’t stop kissing you. Or touching you. If I stay here, we’ll never get anything done.” 

Wonyoung’s breath hitched, heart fluttering wildly. She laughed nervously, leaning back enough to look at her. “Yujin…” she teased, but the sound came out breathy, her body instantly betraying how much she wanted her. 

Yujin smirked, dimples flashing. 

Unable to resist, Wonyoung leaned up and kissed her softly. “Drive safe, okay?” 

Yujin nodded, eyes warm, before turning toward the door. But Wonyoung stopped her, tugging lightly at her sleeve and kissing her again, this time deeper, lingering, as though reluctant to let her go. 

When she finally pulled back, her chest was fluttering so fast she thought Yujin might hear it. This feels like… like I’m a wife sending her partner off to work. The thought sent a dizzy sort of joy spiraling through her. 

Yujin groaned softly, resting her forehead against Wonyoung’s for a second. “You’re going to kill me,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “If I don’t leave right now, I really won’t be able to.” 

Wonyoung giggled, giddy, biting her lip as she let her go. “Then hurry before you’re late.” 

And she stood there in the entryway, cheeks burning, unable to stop the wide smile stretching across her face. 

***

The front door clicked open just as Wonyoung was finishing up in the kitchen. The smell of simmering spaghetti sauce had filled the penthouse, warm and savory, and the garlic bread was browning in the oven. 

“Mommy’s home!” Hyunseo and Jinu shouted in unison, their little feet running to the entrance. 

Yujin stepped in, still in her sleek work dress, setting her bag down as her children hugged her legs. She laughed softly, bending to kiss the tops of their heads before her gaze found Wonyoung. 

“Smells nice, just in time for dinner,” Yujin said, her voice low, eyes lingering on the girl at the stove a moment too long. 

Wonyoung’s lips curled, almost shy but tinged with a secret only they shared. “Welcome home,” she said warmly, then — without thinking — wiped her hands on a towel and moved to take Yujin’s jacket. It was instinct, natural, like she’d done it for years. 

Yujin let her, watching her with a quiet, almost dangerous smirk. “Thank you,” she murmured, and the simple words carried a weight Wonyoung felt in her stomach. 

“Do you need any help?” Yujin asked, stepping into the kitchen. 

“No need,” Wonyoung said quickly, taking the bread out of the oven — only for Yujin to slide in next to her, reaching for the tray. Their fingers brushed, and Wonyoung stiffened at the spark, cheeks warming as the image of those hands from last night and this morning flashed hot in her mind. 

“Teamwork,” Yujin said smoothly, placing the tray down. 

“Yes,” Jinu chimed in from the table, grinning. “We’re a team!” 

Yujin chuckled, turning to her twins. “Oh yeah? And what’s your contribution, hm?” 

Hyunseo tapped her chin thoughtfully, then declared, “To eat and judge the food!” 

“And to be cute!” Jinu added proudly, puffing his chest. 

The table erupted in laughter, even Wonyoung’s shoulders shaking as she plated the spaghetti. Yujin, still standing close enough behind her to feel the heat, leaned just slightly, voice a murmur only she could hear: “Looks like you and I are carrying the team.”

Wonyoung nearly dropped the spoon, her pulse skipping. She risked a quick glance, catching the curve of Yujin’s lips, that dangerous dimple that made her want to forget the kids were there entirely. 

They gathered around the table, passing plates of pasta and garlic bread, eating like a picture-perfect family. To the twins, it was just a fun dinner. But to Wonyoung, every brush of Yujin’s gaze across the table felt like being undressed all over again. 

***

After dinner, they all migrated to the living room, the twins practically bouncing with excitement. The coffee table was stacked with neatly wrapped presents, colorful ribbons still intact from the night before. 

“Finally, noona! Time to open them!” Jinu said, dragging Wonyoung by the hand to sit on the floor. Hyunseo was already kneeling by the pile, her eyes shining. 

“Okay, okay,” Wonyoung laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” 

She picked up the first box, the tag in Hanni’s handwriting. Inside was a pretty framed photo of all of them — Wonyoung with the twins, taken during one of their outings. The frame itself was decorated with little pressed flowers, delicate and thoughtful. And then a pair of shoes.

“Aww,” Wonyoung said softly, her chest warming. “This is beautiful.” 

Next was Bongsan’s gift — a sweater, made by his wife. “I knew it,” Yujin muttered with a smirk from the couch, earning a little laugh from Wonyoung as she carefully set it aside. 

Then came the twins’ presents. Jinu’s was wrapped messily, tape everywhere, but Wonyoung’s smile widened as she pulled out a fluffy white rabbit plushie. 

“It’s so cute!” she gasped, hugging it close. 

Jinu beamed, puffing his chest proudly. “Her name is Cherry. You have to take care of her, noona!” 

“I will,” Wonyoung promised, pressing the rabbit to her cheek. “Thank you, Jinu.” 

Hyunseo handed her a smaller package, wrapped neatly with a little pink ribbon. Inside was a hair ponytail — soft pink with a tiny charm dangling from it. 

“So you can tie your hair prettily when you cook,” Hyunseo explained earnestly, her cheeks a little pink. 

Wonyoung’s throat tightened. “Hyunseo… this is so sweet. Thank you.” She reached over to hug them both.

Finally, Wonyoung’s eyes fell on the last box. Simple wrapping, with Yujin’s handwriting on the card. She swallowed, fingers hesitating for just a second before untying the ribbon. 

The box opened to reveal a long case, and inside — nestled in velvet — a gleaming chef’s knife. Its blade was polished to a mirror finish, the handle smooth and balanced, and when Wonyoung leaned closer, her breath caught. 

Her initials — J.W.Y. were engraved on the blade. 

“Oh…” she exhaled softly, almost trembling as she lifted it carefully. The weight was perfect. Professional. Expensive. This wasn’t a casual gift. This was… approval. Recognition. Almost like Yujin was silently telling her you belong in this kitchen, in this home. 

Her mind spun. This is no ordinary knife. She must’ve gone out of her way to order this… Personalized? For me? 

“Be careful,” Yujin’s voice broke her trance, low and deliberate. She was sitting back against the sofa, watching Wonyoung intently. “It’s sharp. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” 

The twins were peeking over Wonyoung’s shoulder, wide-eyed. “Whoa… it looks like a samurai sword!” Jinu exclaimed. 

“Mommy, is this really for Wonyoung unnie?” Hyunseo asked, blinking. 

“Yes,” Yujin said smoothly, eyes never leaving Wonyoung’s face. “It’s hers. She deserves it.” 

Wonyoung’s chest tightened, her cheeks burning as she quickly set the knife back in its case before she dropped it from how overwhelmed she felt. “Th-thank you… really. This is… too much.” 

“It’s not,” Yujin countered quietly, her dimple showing just barely as her lips curved. “You’ll put it to good use. I know you will.” 

Hyunseo was still staring at the knife with awe when she suddenly sat upright on the carpet. “This is perfect for Wonyoung unnie,” she declared, her little voice ringing with certainty. “Because she’s the queen of the kitchen!” 

Jinu gasped dramatically, jumping to his feet. “Yes! That’s true! We should declare her our queen!” He pointed at the rabbit plush Wonyoung was still holding. “Cherry can be her royal guard!” 

Wonyoung laughed, cheeks pink, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you two…” But inside, her chest bloomed warm. Queen of the kitchen? Their words hit something deep. 

Hyunseo nodded seriously. “No, really. It’s true. Wonyoung unnie has been with us for five months now.” She held up her hand, spreading all five fingers. “And she didn’t leave, not even once. I’m happy.” 

Wonyoung froze. Five months. Hearing it from Hyunseo’s lips made it feel so real. Five months of waking the kids up, feeding them, helping with school, filling this house with her cooking and laughter. And now… filling it with Yujin too, her heart whispered. 

Jinu flopped back onto the sofa dramatically. “Five months and she still plays with us and makes yummy food! I give Wonyoung noona’s performance one hundred! A perfect score!” 

He turned immediately toward Yujin. “What about you, Mommy? What grade do you give Wonyoung noona?” 

Yujin, who had been leaning back in her seat watching the exchange with that quiet, unreadable smile, didn’t hesitate. “One hundred,” she said smoothly. “Perfect score too.” 

Wonyoung’s stomach fluttered, heat creeping up her neck. The way Yujin said it wasn’t casual — it was too firm, too intentional. She avoided Yujin’s eyes, but of course, that only made her more aware of them. 

Hyunseo leaned in eagerly. “You have to explain why, Mommy. Why is it a hundred?” 

Jinu clapped his hands. “Yeah, explain! This is an interview now!” 

Yujin chuckled low, setting her elbow on the armrest, chin resting against her palm. She shifted her gaze slowly — deliberately — toward Wonyoung, and Wonyoung felt her skin heat under the intensity. 

“Well,” Yujin began, her tone measured but carrying something underneath. “Because she gives everything to us. Every meal, every moment, every effort — she’s generous, and she doesn’t hold back.” 

Wonyoung’s breath caught. 

The twins nodded earnestly, completely taking it at face value. “Yes! She does give us everything!” Hyunseo agreed brightly. 

But Yujin’s eyes didn’t move from Wonyoung. Her voice lowered slightly, almost intimate. “I’m very satisfied with her performance.” 

The room spun for Wonyoung. Her cheeks burned, her heartbeat stumbling against her ribs. The twins giggled, oblivious, but all Wonyoung could hear was the echo of those words. Satisfied. Performance. Giving everything. Each word twisted in her mind, dragging her back to the kitchen counter earlier, to the breathless noises and Yujin’s mouth on her skin. 

She forced a laugh, holding Cherry tighter to her chest like a shield. “Th-that’s… good to hear.” 

Jinu sat up straighter, puffing his chest proudly as if he was part of the judging panel. “So it’s official! Wonyoung noona has Mommy’s seal of approval. A perfect nanny!” 

“Yes!” Hyunseo clapped her hands. “And the kitchen queen forever!” 

The twins broke into laughter, running off to grab paper and crayons, apparently to make a crown for their newly-declared queen. 

Meanwhile, Wonyoung sat frozen, still clutching the plush rabbit. Her ears were ringing, her mind a mess. Satisfied. Performance. She meant more than just the kids. She had to. 

She dared one glance toward Yujin and nearly melted when she saw the tiny smirk curving Yujin’s lips, a knowing look hidden in her eyes. 

Help me, Wonyoung thought, her heart hammering. She’s going to kill me with just words. 

***

The twins were finally asleep, soft snores muffled behind their bedroom doors. The penthouse was quiet again.

Yujin had pulled Wonyoung into her office the moment they left the kids’ rooms, under the excuse of “just five minutes.” But five minutes had already stretched much longer — Wonyoung was straddling Yujin on the leather couch, their lips tangled, breaths hot and uneven. Yujin’s hands slid beneath Wonyoung’s shirt, fingers tracing up her spine, sending shivers through her body. Wonyoung’s mouth tasted like the faint sweetness of the dessert they’d shared earlier, and Yujin swore she was getting drunk on it all over again. 

But even as the heat built, Yujin pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Wonyoung’s. Her voice was husky, breathless but serious. “Wonyoung… we have to be careful,” she whispered. 

Wonyoung blinked, lips still tingling, her hands still fisted against Yujin’s blouse. “Careful?” she echoed, a little dazed. 

Yujin gave a short, quiet laugh, though it wasn’t really amused—it was her trying to steady herself. “The twins. They’re smart. Curious. If we keep… doing this all over the house, one day they’re going to notice.” Her thumb brushed over Wonyoung’s cheek, tender but grounding. “I can’t risk them walking in and seeing something they shouldn’t.” 

For a beat, silence stretched between them, only their ragged breathing filling the space. Wonyoung swallowed, her heart skipping. She understood — of course she did. But the way Yujin’s eyes looked at her right now, dark and hungry, it was hard to think about anything else. 

Wonyoung leaned in again, whispering against Yujin’s lips. “Then… we’ll be careful,” she said softly. “But… it doesn’t mean we have to stop.” 

That was all it took. Yujin groaned quietly, pulling her closer, kissing her again with the kind of hunger that said she didn’t want to stop, not now, not ever. Their kisses turned sloppy, greedy, Wonyoung pressing her body against Yujin’s as if she couldn’t get close enough. 

Yujin’s hand slid lower, squeezing at her waist, and Wonyoung gasped, biting back a moan. It was dangerous, thrilling, the office couch suddenly feeling too small, too risky and that only made it hotter. 

When they finally broke apart, lips swollen and breaths unsteady, Yujin rested her head against Wonyoung’s shoulder, her voice low and hoarse.

“God… you’ll be the death of me.” 

Wonyoung smiled breathlessly, brushing her fingers through Yujin’s hair. “Then we’ll just have to make sure no one finds the body.” 

Yujin chuckled against her neck, her laughter muffled, before kissing her skin again, softer this time. The danger hadn’t disappeared but right now, in the quiet of her office, with Wonyoung in her arms, they are safe here. 

As Yujin’s laughter softened against her neck, Wonyoung let her eyes flutter shut, breathing in the faint scent of Yujin’s perfume mixed with the warmth of her skin. Her lips were swollen, her heart racing and still, Yujin’s words echoed in her head. 

We have to be careful. 

Of course, Yujin was right. Wonyoung knew it even before Yujin said it. The twins were only six — bright, curious, always asking questions. They didn’t miss a thing. If they were ever to stumble into the office and see… this — see them — what would they think? They were far too young to understand kissing that wasn’t just on the cheek, far too young to understand why their mommy and their nanny would cling to each other breathlessly on a couch like this. 

It’s R18 stuff. And they’re kids. Just kids. 

The thought made her cheeks burn hotter, guilt flickering briefly through the haze of arousal. Wonyoung tilted her head slightly, letting her gaze linger on Yujin’s profile — sharp, beautiful, tired but radiant in the dim lamplight. It wasn’t just about the twins, either. Yujin was still technically married, even if in the middle of divorce. A high-profile woman with eyes on her, responsibilities on her shoulders. And Wonyoung… she was the nanny. Younger. Female. 

On paper, everything about this was complicated. Risky. Messy. The kind of situation that demanded caution at every turn. 

And yet… despite all of that, Wonyoung felt a steadiness inside her. Like the moment Yujin said they had to be careful, Wonyoung didn’t hear it as a warning — she heard it as a kind of promise. Because underneath the risk, Yujin still wanted her. Enough to steal moments, enough to hold her even when it was reckless. 

She wants me. She remembers. She doesn’t regret it. And I… trust her.

Wonyoung smiled faintly, almost to herself, and let her fingers trail lazily through Yujin’s hair, nails lightly grazing her scalp. Now, she didn’t feel the need to question every little thing, to overthink the how and the why. They would figure it out, step by step, moment by moment.

For now, they will just be careful.

***

It was Saturday morning, a weekend where the air already hummed with the promise of fun. The twins were up earlier than usual, buzzing with energy and tugging at Wonyoung’s arms before she even finished her breakfast. They arrived in HappyQuest World.

It was their holy grail of fun. The park wasn’t just another playground or mall arcade — it was their favorite place in the entire world. A kingdom of magic, rollercoasters, and characters they knew by heart, where every corner smelled of cotton candy and popcorn. 

The day became a blur of rides and giggles. Wonyoung guided them carefully, making sure they only got in line for rides that matched their height. Still, there was no shortage of thrills: 

They had already gone on the merry-go-round three times, tackled the “Junior Rollercoasters,” and spun themselves dizzy in the teacup ride. Wonyoung couldn’t help but laugh every time Jinu screamed like he was on a death-defying drop, even though the ride was only circling in harmless loops. Hyunseo, on the other hand, was braver, demanding faster spins until even Wonyoung’s head was dizzy. 

Every time they got off a ride, their cheeks were flushed red, hair a little messier, but their smiles grew wider. They looked at Wonyoung with the kind of joy that made her chest ache in the best way. 

“This is the best place in the world,” Hyunseo declared as they skipped along to the next attraction. 

“The happiest place,” Jinu corrected, puffing his chest proudly. “Our kingdom.” 

By the time their little trio finally settled down at a picnic table shaded by a giant umbrella, the twins were flushed pink and high on adrenaline. Wonyoung carried a tray full of their lunch: cartoon-shaped sandwiches cut like stars and bears, fried chicken nuggets dyed with colorful food dust, and a mountain of fries. 

“Daebak! It’s a bear sandwich!” Jinu squealed, grabbing one. 

“Mine is a star!” Hyunseo said proudly, holding it up. 

Wonyoung chuckled, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Eat slowly, okay? You both will get stomachaches if you rush after all those rides.” 

They dug in anyway, cheeks puffed out, crumbs sticking at the corner of their lips. Between giggles and munches, Jinu sighed, his voice suddenly softer. “I wish Mommy was here.” 

Hyunseo nodded, chewing slower now. “Yeah. This is our favorite place in the whole world.” 

Wonyoung’s hand froze for a moment as she reached for her fries. Her chest tightened. She forced her smile to stay natural. “Do you two come here often?” 

“Mm-hm.” Hyunseo nodded enthusiastically. “Every three months.” 

Jinu added, without thinking, “When Daddy was—” He stopped suddenly, his small mouth snapping shut, eyes darting down at his plate as though he had said something forbidden. 

Wonyoung blinked. It was the first time either of them mentioned their father in front of her. She felt her heart thump, nervous about how to respond. This was delicate territory, and she didn’t want to hurt them or overstep. 

She cleared her throat gently, softening her tone. “So… the last time you came here… was it when your dad and mom were still together?” 

Hyunseo, after a pause, nodded. “Mm. Daddy used to be fun. He would carry us on his shoulders, and he laughed all the time.” Her voice shrank a little, as though pulling back into memory. “Mommy was the strict one. She told us to sit properly, not spill food, not run too far.” 

Jinu pouted, picking at the corner of his sandwich. “Yeah… Daddy was fun. Mommy was serious.” 

Wonyoung listened quietly, her smile small and gentle. She didn’t push further, but inside, she felt something stir. For the twins, this park wasn’t just rides and snacks. It was a reminder of a time when their family was still whole. 

As the twins sipped on their colored drinks and nibbled on the last of their dinosaur nuggets, Wonyoung’s smile softened but her mind wandered. 

Their dad seems… nice, she thought, replaying Hyunseo’s words in her head about how playful he had been. But then a shadow followed that thought, the same one that always hovered in the background whenever the subject of their father came up. If he was so nice, why… why hasn’t he visited? Why hasn’t he even called them once? 

Five months. She had been here five whole months, watching them grow a little taller, learning their habits, soothing their bad dreams and not once had their father appeared. No phone call, no visit, not even a single gift. It wasn’t her place to ask, but the silence was louder every day. 

She glanced at the twins, their small shoulders bent over their trays, and her heart tugged painfully. Do they even realize how long it’s been? Or do they just… wait? 

Her voice came out gentler than she expected. “Do you… miss your dad?” 

The question hung heavy in the air. Jinu paused mid-bite, his little hand tightening around his fork. “Sometimes,” he said softly, eyes downcast. 

Hyunseo’s lips trembled for a moment before she looked away. “But… Mommy said we won’t see Dad for a long time.” 

The sadness in their faces — so raw and unshielded — struck Wonyoung like a blade. She instantly regretted asking, her chest tightening with guilt. What was I thinking? They’re just six… they shouldn’t have to carry something like this. Why did I bring it up? 

She reached out, brushing Jinu’s hair back from his forehead. “Hey… you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” she said softly. “But remember—” her smile warmed despite her aching heart, “you can tell me anything you want. Anytime. I’ll always listen.” 

Jinu blinked at her, his frown easing slightly. “Really? Even boring ones? And… sad ones?” 

“Yes,” Wonyoung nodded firmly. “Every single one. I’ll listen. Always. Like you said, we are family.” 

Jinu grinned wide, nodding. “Yes! Because Wonyoung noona is nice and playful… and also because Noona and Mommy can be best friends!” 

Wonyoung froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard. Her pulse fluttered strangely, and her smile faltered. Best friends. The word felt like both a shield and a knife. 

Before she could say anything, Hyunseo chimed in quickly, correcting him with the bluntness only children could have. “No, Jinu. Best friends aren’t partners. Partners are couple partners. We have schoolmates with that, remember?” 

Jinu looked confused, frowning as he tried to process it. “But… my friends said—” 

Hyunseo cut him off, her tone suddenly firm. “Don’t listen to your friends. They don’t know.” 

Wonyoung blinked, her heart tightening, her thoughts spiraling. Romantic partners. Two women. Me and Yujin. The words hung like a storm cloud. She felt a strange mix of surprise, shock, and a sinking sadness. 

She wanted to laugh and say, you’re right, Hyunseo. You’re too young to understand. But another thought cut sharper: And maybe… they’ll never be allowed to. 

Korea was not a place kind to women like her and Yujin — two women, falling into something fragile and burning, tucked away in stolen corners of a penthouse. It was one thing to hide it from society, another to hide it from the twins who saw everything with innocent eyes. 

The disappointment pressed heavy in her chest. Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we just… exist, openly? But she swallowed the thought, forcing herself to breathe, to ground herself. The twins didn’t need her turmoil. 

She forced a bright smile, gently clapping her hands. “Since Mommy isn’t here, why don’t we pick out souvenirs together? Something fun to remember today by? We can make new memories together.” 

The twins’ faces lit up again, the shadow of the earlier conversation fading instantly in the way only children could manage. “Yes!” Hyunseo cheered. 

“Let’s get matching keychains!” Jinu bounced in his seat. 

***

The night air at HappyQuest World was buzzing with excitement, the laughter of children and families blending with the chime of carnival music and the distant hum of rollercoasters still clattering in motion. Wonyoung shifted Hyunseo against her hip, the little girl’s arms looped lazily around her neck, her cheek warm against Wonyoung’s shoulder. Jinu stood in front of them, eyes sparkling as he leaned on the railing, bouncing slightly on his heels as if waiting for the sky itself to open. 

And then, with a sharp boom. 

The first firework cracked across the black canvas of the sky, exploding into golden chrysanthemums that rained down in shimmering trails. The crowd around them gasped and cheered, children squealing, couples holding hands. 

Hyunseo clapped, suddenly awake again from her sleepy slump. “Unnie! Look! It’s so big!” 

Jinu hopped in place, pointing wildly. “That one looks like a dragon! Did you see it, Noona?!” 

Wonyoung laughed softly, adjusting her grip so Hyunseo could see better. “Yes, I see it. A very shiny dragon.” 

Because while the fireworks bloomed in perfect colors, her thoughts drifted, unbidden, into darker corners. 

Will they ever… see me as more than this? she wondered, biting gently on her lip. To them, I’m their unnie, their nanny. But could I ever be… a parent? Someone who could stay in their lives, permanently? 

The thought almost scared her. It felt too big, too heavy, too early. She had only been here five months. And Yujin… 

Her cheeks grew hot, even though no one could see her in the dark. Yujin and I… what even are we? 

She thought back to her birthday, to the way they had crossed that line, burning with want and nerves. And now? Almost every night since then, stolen kisses, tangled sheets, laughter muffled against skin. A week of it, just a week, and yet it had burrowed under her skin like it had always been meant to happen. 

But we’re not exclusive. We never said it. We just… do this. Again and again, like we can’t stop. 

Her heart gave a small, painful squeeze. Who am I to her, really? Am I just… here, convenient? Temporary? 

She glanced at Jinu’s small figure in front of her, at Hyunseo’s trusting weight in her arms, at the two little lives who had somehow wrapped themselves around her heart in just months. She would do anything for them. Anything. And for Yujin too — though the thought twisted with a quiet hurt she didn’t want to name. 

And then the thought of their father slipped in, like an unwelcome shadow. Even if it’s not fair… just thinking of him hurts. He’s part of them, part of Yujin.

Another firework thundered above, spilling pink and green light across their faces. Jinu squealed, Hyunseo clapped again, and the children’s joy broke her heavy thoughts for a moment. 

“Wow…” Jinu whispered in awe, his head tilted all the way back, his eyes reflecting the sparks. “It’s like the sky is celebrating just for us.” 

Wonyoung smiled faintly, leaning her cheek against Hyunseo’s soft hair, breathing in the smell of cotton candy that still lingered. She wished she could hold onto this moment forever — their innocence, their laughter, their trust in her. 

But beneath the glittering sky, she couldn’t stop the question from circling in her heart: Where do I fit in this family? And how long will it last before the world reminds me I don’t belong? 

The fireworks kept blooming above, as if to cover her doubts in light. 

***

The crowd was thinning out, parents tugging tired children along in the cooling night air. Wonyoung adjusted Hyunseo’s weight in her arms, guiding Jinu carefully as they made their way toward the taxi pickup point just outside the gates. Hyunseo’s cheek rested against her shoulder, sticky from candy, eyes half-closed after the long day of excitement. 

Just as Wonyoung tapped her phone to confirm the booking, a familiar figure emerged from the glowing entrance of HappyQuest World. 

Tall. Elegant. Rushing but graceful even in heels. 

Yujin. 

She stood out immediately in her sharp black dress and fitted blazer, heels clicking against the pavement, her hair slightly mussed from hurrying. The corporate goddess had somehow stepped into a world of balloons, neon rides, and stuffed toys, like she was lost — yet to the twins, she was the missing piece. 

“Mommy!” 

Yujin’s tired but radiant smile bloomed at the sight of them. She quickened her pace, breathless, and shook her head, chuckling. 

“Ah, I missed the fireworks, didn’t I?” she said, a little regret in her tone. “Traffic was insane. I rushed here as soon as I could.” 

Wonyoung froze in surprise, still holding Hyunseo, who immediately wriggled in her arms to be set down. She bent to release the girl, who bolted toward her mother with her brother. 

The twins collided with Yujin, wrapping their arms around her waist. Yujin crouched low despite her attire, gathering them both tightly into her embrace, pressing her cheek to their heads like she needed to breathe them in. The relief and love on her face was undeniable, even in the dim amusement park lights. 

Wonyoung’s chest ached at the sight. 

When Yujin finally straightened, still holding the twins’ hands, her eyes lifted toward Wonyoung. For a second, the noise of the park blurred around them. Yujin reached out briefly, her fingers brushing against Wonyoung’s arm in greeting. Just a nudge. Just a touch. But the warmth of it ran up Wonyoung’s skin like a spark, leaving her breathless. 

“You’re here…” Wonyoung whispered, smiling despite the swirl of emotions inside her. Somehow, Yujin’s presence steadied the storm she’d been caught in earlier. The loneliness, the questions — they softened. 

Yujin’s lips curved. “Of course. I couldn’t miss their favorite place but I was still late.” 

The twins tugged at her hands, eager to chatter. Wonyoung quickly collected herself and said lightly, “We already had some snacks earlier, but—” She crouched a little to meet Jinu’s eyes. “Are you still hungry?” 

Jinu puffed up his cheeks thoughtfully, then broke into a grin. “I won’t say no to food!” 

They all laughed — even a sleepy Hyunseo, who rubbed her eyes. “I’m a little tired, Mommy…” she admitted softly, leaning against Yujin’s side. 

Yujin looked down at her daughter with gentle eyes, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Then we’ll go have a meal nearby, hmm? A quiet place. You can rest at the table and eat a little, then sleep at the car.” 

The twins nodded in agreement, already comforted by the idea. 

Wonyoung glanced at Yujin again. Despite the late hour, despite her work clothes, Yujin was here. And that small, reckless decision — to come to them, to appear like this — made Wonyoung’s heart flutter, and she’s sure that the twins, even if their Mommy came late, were happy too.

***

The four of them ducked into a small Korean restaurant just outside the park — the kind of place with warm wooden tables and walls plastered with old posters. The late evening crowd was thinner now, mostly families finishing their meals or couples sharing bubbling stews. 

A waitress quickly led them to a corner booth, and Yujin slid in first, immediately helping Hyunseo settle beside her. The little girl was still drowsy, rubbing her eyes, but when the menu was placed in front of her, she perked up almost instantly. 

“Mommy, I want tteokbokki,” Hyunseo said, pointing with determination. 

“And fried chicken!” Jinu chimed in, bouncing a little in his seat. 

Wonyoung smiled, leaning forward. “But I thought you said you were tired, Hyunseo?” she teased gently. 

Hyunseo’s lips tugged into a sheepish grin. “I’m tired but… hungry too.” 

Yujin laughed softly, smoothing her daughter’s hair. “That’s my girl.” She glanced up at Wonyoung with a smile that was softer, more private. “She gets that appetite from me.” 

Soon, dishes began to arrive — bubbling kimchi stew, plates of golden fried chicken dusted with seasoning, the bright red of spicy rice cakes, and side dishes filling the table with color. The twins dove in happily, chatting between bites, their earlier exhaustion is gone in the face of food and their mother’s company. 

Wonyoung found herself mostly watching — Yujin carefully pulling bones out of chicken pieces before placing them on her children’s plates, Jinu waving his chopsticks in the air as he told a story, Hyunseo resting against Yujin’s shoulder between spoonfuls. The warmth of it all seeped into Wonyoung’s chest, making her feel like she was intruding and belonging at the same time. 

“Mommy!” Jinu suddenly piped up, his mouth still full of rice. “Guess what? We bought you something!” 

Yujin’s brows lifted. “Oh? For me?” 

Hyunseo nodded eagerly. “And for our classmates too! So we can share and brag at school!” 

Wonyoung reached into her tote bag, producing the small souvenir bag they had carefully packed earlier in the day. Jinu practically climbed onto the table to grab it first, proudly pulling out a tiny keychain shaped like the HappyQuest World mascot — a round, smiling bear wearing a cape. 

“This one’s for you, Mommy!” Jinu said, placing it in Yujin’s hand like it was treasure. 

Yujin stared at the little trinket, and though it was simple plastic, her expression softened as though it was made of gold. She clipped it immediately onto the strap of her designer purse, holding it up for them to see.

“Look,” she said warmly, “now I’ll carry it with me everywhere. Even at work.” 

The twins beamed, delighted. 

As they moved on to their food again, Yujin’s gaze shifted toward Wonyoung. “Thank you… for taking them today,” she said, her voice quieter now, just for her. “I’m glad they had fun.” 

Wonyoung shook her head. “They’re the ones who made it fun. I just… followed along.” She glanced at the children, smiling as Jinu tried to steal another piece of chicken off his sister’s plate. “They were so happy. It’s their favorite place in the world.” 

Yujin exhaled softly, then lowered her voice further. “I’m sorry I came late.” 

Wonyoung’s heart squeezed. The sincerity in her tone was clear. 

But before she could respond, Jinu leaned forward, waving his chopsticks like a conductor. “It’s okay, Mommy! Next time we’ll all go together, right?” 

Hyunseo perked up. “Yeah, you promised!” 

Yujin blinked at them, caught between amusement and surprise. “Did I?” 

“Yes!” they said, then extended their pinky fingers across the table expectantly. 

Yujin laughed — the kind of laugh that slipped past her professional facade, warm and unguarded. She hooked both her pinkies with theirs, sealing the promise. “Fine, fine. Next time, all of us. Together.” 

The twins cheered, satisfied. 

***

The night air was cool when they stepped out of the restaurant. The streets outside buzzed faintly with weekend traffic, neon signs reflecting off the pavement. Yujin led them toward her car parked along the side street. The twins were sluggish now, their bursts of energy from the amusement park are gone, and by the time the doors clicked shut, they were already curling against their seats. 

“Seatbelts,” Yujin reminded gently. Even half-asleep, Jinu obediently buckled himself in. Hyunseo fumbled with hers until Wonyoung leaned back and clicked it into place for her. 

Wonyoung pulled out the plush toys and small pillows they had bought earlier, tucking one under each twin’s head so their necks wouldn’t be strained. Jinu instinctively hugged the stuffed bear he’d named CaptainBear, while Hyunseo clutched her souvenir pouch tight in her arms. 

By the time Wonyoung slid into the passenger seat, the twins were already breathing in the steady rhythm of sleep. Yujin glanced once at the rearview mirror, then started the engine. The hum of the car filled the silence as they pulled onto the road, city lights sliding past. 

For a while, neither spoke — just the quiet between them, the kind that felt fragile. Then Yujin broke it first, her voice low. 

“Thank you,” she said, eyes still on the road.  For… doing this with them today. I really appreciate it.” 

Wonyoung turned slightly toward her, surprised at the softness in her tone. “Of course,” she replied gently. “Anything for the twins. They’re wonderful… they made it so easy to enjoy.” 

Yujin’s lips curved faintly, but she didn’t look away from the road. “Still,” she murmured. “They were smiling so much tonight. That means a lot.” 

Wanting to ease the mood, Wonyoung asked, “How was your day? At work, I mean.” 

Yujin exhaled, the tension in her shoulders visible as the headlights caught the profile of her face. “Busy. It always is. We’re preparing to open more restaurants in Singapore, Tokyo, New York…” She paused briefly, almost as if catching herself. “Meetings piled on top of meetings. Honestly, I didn’t even think I’d make it here at all.” 

Her voice carried a kind of exhaustion that made Wonyoung’s chest ache, but also pride — this was Yujin, after all. Driven. Accomplished. Carrying the world and still finding a way to show up. 

“And you?” Yujin’s tone shifted, more attentive. “How was your day with them? Besides the rides and the food.” 

Wonyoung hesitated, fingers brushing over the hem of her skirt. “They were… really happy,” she said softly. “But when we were eating earlier, they mentioned their dad.” 

The effect was immediate. Yujin’s hands stilled on the steering wheel, her knuckles tightening as though the leather beneath her palms had suddenly hardened. The car stayed steady, but her silence was sharp, hanging in the air. 

“What did they say?” Her voice was careful now, clipped at the edges. 

Wonyoung lowered her gaze, recalling the moment. “They said that you and their dad used to bring them to HappyQuest World every few months. That it was fun… and sometimes they miss him. But they said you told them they won’t see him for a while.” 

The road stretched quiet for a beat, the faint hum of the tires filling the silence. Yujin’s jaw flexed, her focus fixed on the traffic ahead. Even without looking, Wonyoung could feel the heaviness in her — like she was pulling in all her emotions, containing them tightly behind her composed face. 

Wonyoung’s chest tightened. She wanted to reach across the console, to touch her hand, to say something soothing — but with the twins sleeping in the backseat, the moment felt delicate, dangerous to disturb. 

Instead, she kept her voice soft, tentative. “I didn’t press them. I just… listened.” 

Yujin’s grip on the steering wheel loosened slowly, as though she realized how hard she had been holding on. Her throat bobbed before she finally replied, “...Thank you.” It was quiet, almost too quiet. 

Wonyoung turned her eyes back toward the passing lights outside the window, her heart heavy. She thought again of the way Jinu’s voice had trailed off, of Hyunseo’s sad little nod, and wondered just what shadows lay behind the walls Yujin had built so firmly around herself and her children. 

The drive stretched in silence, the steady hum of the car filling the space between them. Wonyoung sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the glow of passing streetlights. She wanted to speak — no, she needed to — but every word felt dangerous, like it might splinter whatever delicate thread was holding her and Yujin together. 

Her heart pounded as she finally drew in a quiet breath. “Yujin…” she murmured, her voice low, uncertain. “What happened? With… their dad?” 

Her question hung in the air like fragile glass. Immediately, she regretted it. She wasn’t their mother. She wasn’t even family. She was just— 

A mistress.

“Never mind, I am not in a position to say that.”

Yujin’s gaze flicked from the road to her, sharp, unreadable. “Why are you saying that?” Yujin’s tone was steady but laced with something raw underneath. 

Wonyoung’s throat tightened. She turned her eyes down to her knees, whispering the words that had been clawing at her chest. “Because I’m just the nanny… and right now, technically, a mistress.” 

The word tasted bitter as it left her mouth. It was the ugliest version of the truth, and yet the one she couldn’t shake. 

Yujin cursed under her breath, the sound barely audible but filled with heat. “Fuck—” She reached across the console suddenly, her hand closing around Wonyoung’s fingers with a grip that was almost desperate. Her palm was warm, steady, grounding. “You are not that. Don’t ever call yourself that.” Her voice was low, urgent, like she was terrified Wonyoung might actually believe it. 

Wonyoung’s heart lurched. Her lips parted, but before she could respond, a small rustle came from the backseat. 

Hyunseo stirred, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Mommy… how long before we’re home?” 

Yujin’s hand slipped away from Wonyoung’s instantly, retreating as though burned. She twisted in her seat, her voice softening into motherly warmth. “Around twenty minutes, baby. Go back to sleep, alright?” 

Hyunseo hummed faintly in response, nestling back into her plush toy before her breathing evened out again. The car settled back into quiet. 

Yujin kept her eyes fixed on the road, her voice now restrained. “We’ll talk about this another time.” 

The firmness of her tone cut deeper than she probably intended. To Wonyoung, it was like a door slamming shut. She pressed her lips together, her chest tightening. She knew Yujin meant it as a reassurance — that this wasn’t the moment. But all Wonyoung could hear was everything unspoken: we can’t be seen. we can’t be open. you are hidden. you are temporary. 

Her gaze drifted to the twins sleeping peacefully behind them, unaware of the storm simmering in the front seats. She folded her hands tighter in her lap, forcing herself to stay quiet. 

Inside, though, her thoughts churned painfully. Maybe she really was just the nanny. Maybe she really was the mistress Yujin denied her to be. No matter how much she loved them — Yujin and the twins — reality still pressed cold and sharp at the edges of her heart. 

So she sat silently for the rest of the ride, watching the city blur past the windows as the car carried them toward the penthouse. 

 

***

The elevator ride up was quiet. By the time they stepped into the penthouse, both twins were half-asleep, their little bodies heavy with the exhaustion of a long day at HappyQuest World. Wonyoung carried Hyunseo against her shoulder, Yujin gently guiding Jinu by the hand as he rubbed his eyes. 

They moved with practiced quietness — changing the twins into soft pajamas, tucking them into bed, brushing stray strands of hair off their foreheads. Wonyoung kissed Hyunseo’s temple softly before stepping back, watching as Yujin lingered by Jinu’s side a little longer, whispering something only a mother would. For a fleeting second, it almost felt like they were parents together. 

When the kids finally drifted off, the penthouse seemed too still, almost echoing. Wonyoung followed Yujin back into the living room, where they sank onto the couch side by side. The city lights painted soft reflections on Yujin’s face, catching in her sharp profile. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Yujin exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath all night. 

“About me and Yeonjun,” Yujin began quietly, her voice more fragile than Wonyoung had ever heard. 

Wonyoung’s heart jumped. She straightened, her hands folded on her lap, bracing herself. This was it. The moment Yujin would finally tell her the truth — the story behind the divorce, the reason the twins hadn’t seen their father in five long months. She was ready to listen, no matter how painful it might be. 

But before Yujin could go on, her phone lit up on the coffee table, vibrating insistently. The screen glowed with the name: Chairman An. 

She answered in clipped tones, her voice different — formal, brisk. “Yes, Appa.” A long pause. Her brows furrowed. “…Tomorrow? …Yes. I understand.” She ended the call with a soft sigh, turning to face Wonyoung. “That was my dad,” she explained. “He wants us at the mansion tomorrow. Me, the twins…” Her gaze softened, lingering. “…and you.” 

Wonyoung blinked, her lips parting slightly. “M-me?” 

Yujin gave a short nod. “Yes. They want to meet you.” 

“Why… me?” Wonyoung asked carefully, though she already felt the nerves climbing up her throat. 

Yujin leaned back against the couch, exhaling through her nose. “Because you’re the first nanny who’s stayed this long. Five months, Wonyoung. That’s a record in this house. My parents know the twins are… difficult sometimes, and they’ve gone through more caretakers than I’d like to admit. But you… you’ve lasted. And not just lasted — you’ve kept them happy.” Her eyes flicked toward her, softening. “They want to meet the person who managed to do what no one else could.” 

Wonyoung’s chest tightened. She tried to smile, though her stomach twisted with mixed feelings. Meeting Yujin’s parents wasn’t just another work errand. It was stepping into the Ahn family’s world — an empire she had only seen from the outside. And no matter how Yujin phrased it, it felt terrifyingly intimate. 

“I… I see,” she murmured, her voice small. “Of course. If that’s what they want.” 

Yujin’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer, as if sensing the storm of nerves beneath her polite smile. Then, almost as if to reassure her, she leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss against her cheek. “Don’t overthink it. Just be yourself. You’re good with them. That’s all they’ll care about.” 

The kiss was brief, but it lingered like a burn on Wonyoung’s skin. She sat frozen, hand instinctively rising to touch the spot even after Yujin stood, her phone already back in hand. 

“I’ll explain everything soon,” Yujin added softly, giving her one last glance before stepping toward her office. “But for now, I need to call him back.” 

Wonyoung stayed seated, staring at the city lights. Her fingers brushed over her cheek again, her thoughts spinning. Yujin’s parents wanted to meet her. Not just as “the nanny,” but as the one who had lasted. The one who had become indispensable. 

It should have made her proud. Instead, her chest ached with something heavier. Because no matter what tomorrow brought, she would still be “just the nanny.” The one who kissed Yujin in shadows, but never beside her in bed when morning came.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she finally rose, forcing herself toward her room. The house was too quiet, too sharp with distance. And though she told herself it was just work, just part of the job… her heart whispered something far more dangerous. 

Tomorrow, she would face the An family. 

 

Chapter 9: meeting the parents

The next morning dawned too quickly. Wonyoung barely slept, nerves prickling through her all night, but by the time the car rolled up to the An family’s estate, the sight before her nearly knocked the breath out of her chest. 

The mansion looked like something out of a drama — three stories of pale stone with sweeping archways, towering pillars, and windows that gleamed like diamonds under the sun. The driveway curved through immaculately kept gardens, lined with hedges trimmed into perfect shapes and bursts of color from flowers that looked like they had their own caretakers. A fountain in the middle sprayed crystalline water into the air, glittering as though even it had been choreographed. 

Wonyoung’s lips parted in awe. She had known Yujin came from money — anyone in Seoul knew the An name but seeing it in person was a different story entirely. This wasn’t just wealth. This was legacy. 

The twins, however, barely batted an eye. “Come on, Noona!” Jinu tugged her hand as the car stopped, his excitement bubbling over. Hyunseo hopped out first, skipping ahead confidently. Yujin followed last, composed as ever, a protective presence between Wonyoung and the intimidating grandeur. 

Inside, the scale was just as overwhelming. High ceilings stretched above with glittering chandeliers that looked as though they belonged in a palace. Marble floors reflected their steps, and house staff lined the entry hall, bowing politely as the family entered. Wonyoung instinctively lowered her head as well, unsure if she should even meet anyone’s eyes. 

“This way,” Yujin said gently, her hand brushing Wonyoung’s back as she guided her forward. Even that small touch made her pulse stutter. 

They were led into a formal sitting room where three figures waited. 

At the center was An Hwa-Yeon, poised in an elegant hanbok-inspired dress that fused tradition with modern refinement. Her beauty was sharp, ageless, with eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Beside her sat An Seon-Woo, tall even while seated, his presence commanding in a dark tailored suit, salt-and-pepper hair lending him a distinguished air. And near them, lounging with casual elegance, was  Kim Ji-Won, Yujin’s cousin. 

“Appa, Eomma, Ji-Won,” Yujin greeted evenly, the picture of a dutiful daughter. Then she gestured toward Wonyoung, who stood frozen just behind the twins. “This is Jang Wonyoung — the twins’ nanny.” 

Wonyoung felt her palms dampen. She bowed deeply, forcing a polite smile. Remember — you’re the nanny, nothing else. Introduce yourself as such. She swallowed, bowing deeply, her voice soft but steady. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Jang Wonyoung.” 

The twins’ nanny. That’s what she felt like as the words left her lips. A stranger standing in a dynasty’s living room, trying to smile politely despite the weight of their gaze. 

To her surprise, Seon-Woo’s expression warmed first. He leaned forward slightly, nodding. “Welcome, Wonyoung-ssi. Please, sit with the children.” His voice carried both authority and an unexpected gentleness. “I’ve heard much about you. It seems my grandchildren are rather smitten with their nanny. I hear you’ve been managing more than just childcare in this household. I’m told you’ve been involved in meal planning as well?” 

Before Wonyoung could respond, Hyunseo piped up happily, wriggling onto the couch. “Because Wonyoung Unnie is nice!” 

“And because Wonyoung Noona makes magic food!” Jinu added, puffing his chest proudly. 

That drew the faintest quirk of a smile from Ji-Won, who tilted her head. “Magic food? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Jinu turned toward her, utterly serious. “It means Wonyoung Noona can make foods taste delicious — even vegetables!” His hands flew dramatically as though unveiling a great secret. 

Seon-Woo chuckled lowly, clearly entertained. “Even vegetables, hm? That is quite the skill. Most adults can’t even manage that.” He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to Wonyoung with renewed intrigue. “I’ll admit, that’s no small accomplishment. These two are not the easiest critics.” 

Wonyoung flushed, unsure whether to laugh or shrink into herself. “It’s nothing special,” she said quickly, her hands clasping in her lap. “The twins are just… very sweet and open to trying new things when it’s fun.” 

“Fun?” Ji-Won echoed, an eyebrow arched. “You disguise it, don’t you?” 

“Sometimes,” Wonyoung admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her nerves. “Other times, I just… let them cook with me. They like it better when they see it themselves.” 

At that, Hyunseo nodded furiously, her braids bouncing. “Yes! When we make it with Noona, it tastes yummier. Even carrots!” 

They sat down in the table. Wonyoung, sitting there with the twins pressed against her sides, felt her heart thrum unevenly. She was sitting in the lion’s den of the An family, and yet… the children’s voices, their innocent loyalty, gave her a strange sort of courage. 

Chairman An’s brow lifted slightly, intrigued despite himself. “You cook a lot you say. Then perhaps you have an opinion. These days, I find the Seoul dining scene… lacking. Too much flash, not enough refinement. What do you think?” 

Yujin hid a small smile over her teacup, watching carefully. 

Wonyoung didn’t shrink from the challenge. Instead, she leaned forward slightly. “I agree, sir. There’s a trend of leaning into theatrics — smoke, foam, things designed for photos — but they often mask weak fundamentals. A dish should first stand on flavor, texture, and harmony. Even the simplest plating, if done with care, can outshine something showy with no soul.” 

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Chairman An gave a low hum of approval. “Spoken like someone who understands the craft, not just the presentation.” 

Mrs. An smiled warmly, adding, “Wonyoung even teaches the twins. They can tell the difference between a properly seasoned broth and one that’s flat.” 

Hyunseo puffed her chest. “Grandma! I told unnie yesterday the soup was missing salt!” 

The table chuckled, even Chairman An’s mouth tugging at the faintest ghost of a smile. He looked at Wonyoung again, a spark of respect flickering in his otherwise stern gaze. 

Breakfast at the An mansion was nothing short of regal. The long dining table was dressed in gleaming porcelain plates, silver cutlery, and delicate cups of steaming tea. Dishes of warm abalone porridge, fluffy gyeran-jjim, grilled fish, and side plates of fresh greens were arranged with almost ceremonial precision. For Wonyoung, it felt less like breakfast and more like a banquet. 

The twins sat happily beside her, swinging their legs under the table as they munched on sweet rice cakes, oblivious to the thick, elegant atmosphere around them. Yujin, seated across from Wonyoung, was the picture of composure — a blazer draped over her shoulders, her voice calm and measured when she responded to her parents’ small talk. 

It was Ji-Won, however, who seemed most interested in Wonyoung. 

“So, Wonyoung-ssi,” Ji-Won began casually, her voice bright as she spooned some porridge into her bowl. “Tell me a little about yourself. Before you started taking care of these two monsters and their very busy mother.” Her tone was lighthearted, but her sharp eyes stayed fixed on Wonyoung. 

Wonyoung straightened slightly, her fingers curling under the table. “I… studied education for children,” she began carefully, her voice polite. “And also nutrition. I’ve always loved working with kids, and I love cooking.” She smiled gently at the twins beside her, as if they were proof of that. 

“Oh? Cooking?” Ji-Won arched a brow, intrigued. “That explains why these two are practically glowing whenever they talk about you.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “Go on.” 

“I… participated in called Project Mise,” Wonyoung continued, her tone brightening a little with pride. “But I didn’t win.”

As Wonyoung carefully spooned more porridge into Hyunseo’s bowl, Hwa-yeon tilted her head, eyes sharp. “So, Wonyoung-ssi… you joined Project Mise?” she asked. “That is no small feat. Are you a chef then?”

Wonyoung’s fingers stilled for a moment before she set her spoon down neatly. “Ah — no, madam. I’m not a chef. I wanted to be.” Her smile was small, honest, tinged with something wistful. “Cooking has always been my passion. I thought that competition might be my start, but… it didn’t work out.” 

Hwa-yeon regarded her a little longer, then leaned back gracefully. “Then why a nanny? Going from a kitchen to caring for children is… quite a sudden turn.” 

The question made Wonyoung’s chest tighten. She folded her hands in her lap. “Because I needed a job, ma’am. Something steady. I studied education and nutrition in college, and I’ve always been comfortable with children. So I thought, why not try? And during weekends, I’m still continuing my culinary lessons.” 

“Hmm.” It was Seon-woo’s low baritone that joined in next, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “So until you finish your lessons, you’re the nanny?” 

Wonyoung looked up at him, startled. He wasn’t cruel — just direct, the way men of his stature often were. She swallowed. “Well—” 

A beat of silence. 

And then — “No!” 

The twins’ voices broke in unison, sudden and firm. Both heads snapped up from their bowls, round eyes wide and insistent. 

“No, noona can’t leave!” Jinu’s small hand shot across the table and gripped Wonyoung’s, his warm little fingers curling tightly around hers. His face was earnest, almost pleading. “Wonyoung noona is gonna stay with us forever, right?” 

Wonyoung froze, lips parting. The weight of his tiny hand in hers sent a rush straight to her heart. She glanced at Yujin, then at the adults, then back at Jinu’s determined face. Hyunseo mirrored her brother’s stubborn nod, though quieter, her spoon clutched tight as if it were a shield. 

Her throat went dry. 

Forever?

For a fleeting, dangerous moment, she wanted to say yes. To promise him everything he wanted to hear. Because truthfully… she wanted to stay too. 

But the adults’ gazes were on her — Seon-woo’s keen, Hwa-yeon’s thoughtful, Ji-won’s sharp with hidden amusement. And Yujin’s… Yujin’s unreadable, her chopsticks resting still on her plate. 

Wonyoung forced a small smile, brushing Jinu’s hair gently with her free hand. “Noona will be here as long as you need me,” she said softly, choosing each word like stepping carefully across stones in a stream. “I promise.” 

Jinu’s grip on her hand tightened, as though sealing a pact. “That means forever,” he said stubbornly. 

The adults chuckled at his childish certainty, but Wonyoung’s heart clenched. She let out a laugh too, gentle and shaky, stroking the boy’s hand. “Maybe forever, hm?” 

But inside, she was trembling. Because a child’s “forever” was pure and absolute. And she… she wasn’t sure if Yujin wanted her to stay that long. 

And Ji-Won’s smile curved sharper. She set her spoon down and tilted her head, her voice lilting as she said, “Ahh, so Yujin must have loved your dishes so much she hired you…” Her gaze flicked briefly toward her cousin before returning to Wonyoung, “…and wanted to eat more of your—” 

A deliberate pause. Ji-Won let the words hang in the air, simmering. 

“…dishes at the penthouse.” She finished with an innocent blink, as though nothing was strange in her phrasing. 

The twins giggled at the mention of food, blissfully unaware. 

Yujin’s chopsticks stilled mid-air. She glanced at Ji-Won with the faintest narrowing of her eyes, the kind of look that was more a warning than irritation. Then, without a word, she turned back to her father’s comment about the restaurant expansion, as though she hadn’t heard. 

But Wonyoung heard. Loud and clear. 

Her stomach tightened. What was that? Ji-Won’s teasing tone replayed in her mind, over and over, making her ears feel hot. Does she know? Is she just joking, or—? 

Wonyoung forced a small, practiced smile as she spooned some porridge for Hyunseo, hiding the tension in her hands. Inside, her thoughts spiraled. 

Did Yujin tell her? No… Yujin wouldn’t. She’s too careful. Then why did Ji-Won say it like that? Is she just teasing her cousin in front of me, or does she actually suspect? 

Her gaze flickered up for just a second. Ji-Won was watching her — not the twins, not Yujin, but her. A faint curve played on Ji-Won’s lips, almost conspiratorial. 

Wonyoung swallowed hard. Is she supportive? Or is she playing with me? Should I panic? 

Meanwhile, Hyunseo, sitting between Wonyoung and her grandmother, quietly picked up a piece of carrot and pressed it into the rice on her plate, shaping it into a flower. She smiled to herself, proud of the little creation. 

But Seon-woo’s voice cut across the gentle hum of conversation. 

“Hyunseo-ya.” His brows furrowed as his deep voice filled the room. “Food is not a toy. A proper young lady eats with grace, not by playing with her meals.” 

Hyunseo’s small hands froze. The smile slipped from her face as she ducked her head, cheeks burning. 

Before Wonyoung could say anything, Jinu shifted in his chair, drawing his knees up and planting his feet against the seat. Seon-woo’s gaze snapped toward him next. 

“And you — sit properly. A boy your age should not lounge like a delinquent. Feet on the chair? Absolutely not.” 

Jinu blinked, startled, before lowering his legs quickly. He muttered a soft, “Yes, harabeoji…” but his ears flushed red with embarrassment. 

Wonyoung leaned down slightly, her hand brushing Jinu’s back in comfort, whispering, “It’s okay, just sit nicely, hm?” At the same time, Yujin added gently, “Hyunseo, don’t play with your food, darling, just eat it.” Both women tried to soften the sting of the scolding, but Seon-woo wasn’t finished. 

He let out a disapproving sigh, folding his arms. “This,” he said firmly, looking around the table, “is exactly what happens without Yeonjun here. No father figure, no discipline. Children grow spoiled without a man’s hand to guide them.” 

The twins’ faces fell immediately at the sound of their father’s name. Hyunseo’s lower lip trembled, and Jinu stared at his bowl, shoulders hunching as if trying to disappear. 

Hwa-yeon’s voice broke in, her tone sharper than before. “Seon-woo. Not now. It’s breakfast, not a lecture hall. Let them eat.” 

“No, they should know,” he insisted, voice rising slightly, his gaze sweeping back to the twins before locking onto Yujin. “They should know who their father is. And you—” he jabbed lightly in Yujin’s direction with his chopsticks, “you should stop dragging this out. Yeonjun is trying. You should hurry and talk to him. Do you plan to keep your children fatherless forever?” 

He turned deliberately toward his daughter, his gaze heavy across the table. “Your children need him. They need structure. You cannot erase him just because you’re angry. You’ll see in time — he was flawed, yes, but he gave them stability.” 

Yujin’s jaw clenched as she set her chopsticks down a little too firmly. “Appa, stop it,” she said, her voice tight but controlled. “Not here. And certainly not in front of my children.” 

Her words landed firm, her eyes flashing in warning. But the damage was already done — Jinu had gone silent, his small hand slipping from his spoon. Hyunseo looked down at her plate, lips trembling, as though she wanted to say something but didn’t dare. 

Wonyoung sat frozen, her chest tightening at the sight. She could feel the sting of their silence like it was her own, her protective instincts flaring so strongly it hurt to keep still. Her knuckles whitened beneath the table, her tongue pressed hard against the back of her teeth. She knew she shouldn’t — she was just the nanny but watching their little faces crumble under words they didn’t deserve felt unbearable. 

Seon-woo’s gaze was cold, cutting into Yujin’s like a chisel. “You are too busy to discipline them properly. Too busy with the company, too busy compensating for the absence of the man who should be by your side. And look at the result. Nannies coming and going, instability at every turn. Children need structure. They need a father. Without one, they grow into brats who cannot even behave at the table.” 

Across from him, the twins bright morning faces had dimmed, replaced by a cloud of shame and confusion too heavy for such young children to carry. 

Wonyoung’s heart thudded painfully. She told herself Don’t. Don’t say anything. You’re just the nanny. This isn’t your place. Her fingers clenched against the fabric of her skirt under the table. She forced herself to swallow back the heat rising in her throat. 

But then she saw Hyunseo’s lip tremble. She saw Jinu blink rapidly, refusing to look up. 

Before she even realized it, she was leaning forward, her voice cutting through the tense stillness. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, her tone trembling at first, but steadying as she went on, “Jinu and Hyunseo are not weak. They’re children — bright, kind, full of joy. Playing with food, sitting a little wrong at breakfast… that doesn’t make them broken, or unloved.”

The entire table shifted. Seon-woo’s eyes snapped to her, startled by the sudden boldness. Hwa-yeon’s fork paused mid-air. Ji-won raised her brows with a glint of intrigue. Even Yujin’s head jerked toward Wonyoung, eyes widening. 

But Wonyoung didn’t back down. “Yujin-ssi is doing everything she can to raise the twins. She is not just busy — she is providing. And the twins… they’re not brats.” She glanced at the two children, her gaze softening. “They are smart, brave, and unbelievably kind. They are full of love. If sometimes Jinu sits a little wrong in his chair, or Hyunseo plays with her food because she sees a flower in it… that doesn’t mean they are gonna grow up as brats. It means they are children. Children who are deeply loved.” 

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the quiet clink of silverware had stilled. 

Seon-woo leaned back slightly, studying her with a mixture of shock and displeasure. Few dared speak against him — least of all a mere nanny. His jaw worked, as though weighing his response, but for the first time that morning, he had been interrupted. 

And by Wonyoung, of all people. 

“They have guidance. They have discipline. They’re not lost, they’re not unloved. They are being raised in a home full of laughter, of comfort, of joy. Yujin-ssi is raising them with love, and she’s raising them well. And yes—” she swallowed hard, glancing at the twins’ stricken faces before looking back at Seon-woo, “—they miss their father. Of course they do. But scolding them in front of everyone, comparing them to what they’ve lost… making them feel as though something is wrong with them… that doesn’t help them. It only hurts them.”

Across the table, Jinu’s small hand reached for hers under the tablecloth, squeezing tightly. Hyunseo leaned into her side, as if the words had given her permission to breathe again. 

Wonyoung realized, belatedly, just how far she had gone. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her eyes flickered toward Yujin, who stared at her with unreadable expression, as though even she hadn’t expected Wonyoung to throw herself so fiercely into the line of fire.

Across the table, Ji-won had gone silent, lips pressed together in something between surprise and intrigue. Hwa-yeon shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking between her husband and Wonyoung.

Seon-woo’s hand slammed flat against the table, silverware rattling. His eyes burned into her, his voice cutting like steel.
“How dare you speak to me that way? You forget your place. This is family business. You are here to serve, not to lecture.” 

Wonyoung’s stomach dropped, but she didn’t look away. Her free hand squeezed Hyunseo’s fingers reassuringly under the table.

Before Wonyoung could reply, a small but brave voice cut in.
“She is family!” Jinu burst out, his face red, his little fists clenching. “Wonyoung noona is family!” 

“Jinu—” Yujin started, but Seon-woo’s expression hardened. 

“Enough!” he barked, his voice thunderous. “Silence, boy! Don’t you dare raise your voice at your grandfather. Sit down and shut your mouth.” 

Jinu flinched as though struck, his lips wobbling. The dam of his composure broke, tears spilling down his cheeks in heavy drops, shoulders shaking. 

That was enough. 

“Appa, that’s enough!” Yujin’s voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting across the heavy silence. Her chair scraped loudly as she stood, her arm wrapping protectively around her son. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of hurt and fury. “Do not speak to my children like that. And do not speak to Wonyoung like that, either.” 

Seon-woo opened his mouth to retort, but Yujin’s glare held firm, her voice unyielding. “She is here because she has done what no one else could — she lasted. She stayed. Because she is kind, patient, a good influence on them. Because she makes our home warmer. She has given my children the stability and comfort they need. It’s been a while since we had this much peace in the penthouse. And I will not let you — any of you — destroy the peace she has built with us.” 

The silence that followed was deafening, every pair of eyes locked on Yujin as she gathered herself, pulling Jinu closer and wiping his tears gently with her thumb. 

“Come on,” she said firmly, her voice softening only for her children. “Hyunseo, baby, hold your brother’s hand. Wonyoung, let’s go.” 

Hyunseo obeyed immediately, slipping her small fingers into Jinu’s and clinging tightly. Wonyoung, still shaken but steady on her feet, rose and moved to the twins’ side, gently guiding Hyunseo toward the door, her hand firm and reassuring on the little girl’s shoulder. 

Yujin lifted Jinu into her arms, holding him as if she could shield him from the whole world, and turned her back on her father. 

At the far end of the table, Ji-won exhaled slowly, shaking her head. She didn’t dare speak, but her eyes lingered on Seon-woo with thinly veiled disappointment, knowing her uncle has ruined this family gathering. 

“Yujin-ah—” Hwa-yeon quickly stood, her expression distressed, her hand outstretched as she hurried after them. “Please, don’t leave like this. He didn’t mean—” 

But Yujin cut her mother off with a pained but resolute shake of her head. “No, Eomma. We’re leaving. I won’t let the twins sit here another second, listening to this.” 

Hwa-yeon’s face softened, her voice dropping to something gentler, almost pleading. “I understand. I’ll come visit you soon, then. Just… take care of them, Yujin-ah.” 

Yujin paused only to nod once, respectfully, before striding out with Jinu held close, Hyunseo clinging to Wonyoung’s side. The three of them followed her without hesitation, leaving the heavy silence and broken breakfast behind. 

***

The drive back from the mansion was thick with silence, the kind that clung to the air even though the city rushed past the windows. The twins sat in the back, unusually quiet, their small hands fidgeting with the seatbelts. Jinu’s eyes were still rimmed pink, Hyunseo leaning against his shoulder as if lending him strength. Wonyoung sat stiffly in the front passenger seat, sneaking glances at them from time to time, her chest tightening at how subdued they looked. 

Yujin, jaw set, finally broke the silence. Her voice was softer this time, deliberately careful. “Hey,” she called, glancing at them through the mirror. “How about… we don’t go home yet?” 

Hyunseo blinked, curiosity peeking through her sadness. “Eh? Where are we going, Mommy?” 

“The zoo,” Yujin said, forcing a smile that gradually softened into something real when Jinu’s face lit up. “Do you want to see the lions today? Or maybe the elephants?” 

“The giraffes!” Hyunseo gasped, sitting up straighter. “And the penguins!” 

Jinu’s small pout finally melted into excitement. “I wanna see the monkeys! They make funny faces.” 

The heaviness cracked, replaced by that familiar sparkle in their eyes. Wonyoung exhaled quietly, relief pooling in her chest as Yujin made a U-turn at the next intersection, steering them toward the zoo. 

***

By the time they arrived, the twins were practically bouncing on their feet, holding onto both Yujin and Wonyoung’s hands as they passed through the entrance gates. 

The twins darted from one exhibit to another, pressing their faces against the glass of the aquarium tanks, giggling as sea lions flipped gracefully in the water. At the aviary, Hyunseo pointed up, mouth forming a perfect “O” as colorful parrots swooped overhead. Jinu laughed so hard when a monkey mirrored his silly face through the glass that Yujin couldn’t resist pulling out her phone, snapping a photo. 

Wonyoung did the same, but her camera often drifted beyond the children — capturing Yujin crouched down to Jinu’s level, gently brushing Hyunseo’s hair away from her face as she leaned in close to the glass. It was a picture so domestic, so warm, that Wonyoung’s throat ached just watching it. 

At one point, a kind zoo staff member offered to take a group photo. Yujin hesitated for a second but then slipped an arm around Jinu’s shoulders, the boy squirming happily, while Hyunseo clung to Wonyoung’s side. When Wonyoung crouched to balance with Hyunseo, she felt Yujin’s presence beside her — close, intimate. The camera clicked, freezing them together: Yujin, the twins, and Wonyoung, framed by sunlit trees and the distant calls of wild animals. A family portrait in everything but name. 

Wonyoung smiled, but inside, her thoughts spiraled softly. Wouldn’t it be nice if this were real? If she could just… take Yujin’s hand right now, walk through the zoo like parents with their children, let the world see them as they feel in these moments — whole, together, a family. 

But reality tugged at her like a quiet ache. She was only the nanny. To the world, nothing more. 

Later, the sun had climbed higher, dappling through the trees as they strolled deeper into the zoo. The gravel paths crunched beneath their shoes, mingling with the twins’ laughter that carried through the air like birdsong. Wonyoung kept close, Hyunseo’s small hand in hers, while Yujin walked on Jinu’s side. 

Every so often, their shoulders or arms would brush, light as a whisper. The first time it happened, Wonyoung flinched inside, startled by how natural Yujin’s nearness felt, how her presence wrapped around her like warmth. But what surprised her most wasn’t herself — it was Yujin. The older woman didn’t shift away. She didn’t pull her arm back or create space. She simply let it happen, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for them to walk this way, almost linked together, the children between them. 

As they passed by the giraffes, Wonyoung worked up the courage to ask something mundane, just to fill the bubble of quiet that had grown between the twins’ bursts of excitement. “Do you think… we should have lunch here?” she asked softly, hesitant, her eyes fixed on the giraffes’ long necks stretching toward the leaves. 

Yujin turned her head, and before Wonyoung realized it, the older woman leaned closer — too close. One hand slipped instinctively, deliberately, onto the curve of Wonyoung’s waist, guiding her just slightly out of the way of a stroller rolling past. But Yujin didn’t immediately let go. Instead, she bent her head near Wonyoung’s ear to hear her better, her breath warm against her skin. 

Wonyoung froze, heat rushing up her neck, down her spine. Her heart thumped so loudly she was sure Yujin could hear it. The simple pressure of that hand on her waist — steady, grounding — sent her whole body into a quiet storm. She tried to focus, tried to sound normal, but her words stumbled out. “L–Lunch. Should we, um… have lunch… here?” 

Yujin pulled back just enough to look at her, the corner of her lips tilting upward in the faintest smile. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned to the twins. “What do you think, you two? Should we eat here, or go home and eat there?” 

“Here!” Hyunseo shouted without hesitation, tugging Wonyoung’s hand. “I want animal food! Like… like elephant nuggets or lion pizza!” 

Jinu chimed in, his small hands flapping excitedly. “I want dinosaur chicken nuggets! Do they have those here, Mommy?” 

Yujin chuckled, her eyes soft as she looked at her children. “I think they just might.” Then she turned her gaze back to Wonyoung, holding it for a second longer than necessary. “Looks like we’re eating here.” 

Wonyoung could only nod, still feeling the phantom warmth of Yujin’s hand lingering on her waist. Her skin hummed with it, her heart still skipping beats in the aftermath of something so small, so ordinary and yet to her, it was anything but. 

They found a café nestled near the penguin enclosure, decorated with cartoon murals of animals smiling down from the walls. The twins darted forward, noses practically pressed against the glass display of animal-shaped meals. A server laughed softly as Hyunseo declared she wanted the “lion burger” while Jinu insisted on the “dinosaur nuggets.” Which they didn’t technically have but the servers said they will try to shape them.

Wonyoung helped them carry the trays, careful not to spill, while Yujin brought drinks to the table. Once seated, the twins immediately launched into animated chatter about which animals they loved most so far. Their little voices filled the air, bright and unburdened once again. 

She let herself relax, a small smile tugging at her lips as Jinu held out one of his dinosaur nuggets for her to try, demanding she agree it was the “best nugget in the world.” 

“See, noona, it’s a T-Rex!” he exclaimed, waving it like a toy before taking a dramatic bite out of the “head.” 

Wonyoung leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, her lips curling in a playful smirk. “Hmm,” she mused, drawing out the sound, “is that nugget better than mine?” 

Jinu froze mid-chew, his cheeks puffed out like a startled chipmunk. His round eyes blinked rapidly, caught in the trap of the question. Hyunseo immediately burst into giggles, covering her mouth with both hands, while Yujin tilted her head back and laughed.

 Jinu’s little face flushed pink as he scrambled for an answer, his words tumbling out in a stammer. “N-no, noona! I—I mean… this nugget is fun because of the shape! Yeah, only the shape!” 

Hyunseo was already pounding the table lightly, delighted at her brother’s flustered state. “Jinu is blushing!” she squealed, poking his cheek. 

Jinu swatted her hand away, huffing, but the corner of his lips twitched as though he couldn’t hide his grin. 

Wonyoung chuckled, her eyes dancing as she leaned closer. “Oh? So if I made nuggets at home… but shaped them too, would mine be better?” 

Both twins looked at each other, then back at her with eager nods. Hyunseo bounced in her seat, her ponytail bobbing. “Yes! You can make stars, and hearts, and flowers, unnie!” 

Jinu, still trying to recover his dignity, added quickly, “And cars! And dinosaurs! And… and paw prints! You have to make paw prints too, noona.” His little grin stretched wide, mischief twinkling in his eyes now that he was leaning into the game. 

Wonyoung gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as if they had given her the most serious mission in the world. “Stars, hearts, flowers, cars, dinosaurs, and paw prints? That’s a lot to live up to. Are you sure my nuggets will be the best then?” 

“Yes!” the twins said in perfect unison, their voices loud enough to make a family at the next table chuckle. 

Yujin, who had been sipping her drink with an indulgent smile, finally leaned forward. “Alright then. I guess we’ll need to stop by a store on the way home and buy every shape mold we can find.” 

The twins gasped as though Yujin had just promised them a trip to the moon. “Really?!” Hyunseo squealed, tugging at her mother’s sleeve. 

Jinu was already clapping his hands, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “Yes! Noona’s nuggets are gonna be the best in the world then! Even better than the zoo’s!” 

Wonyoung laughed softly, warmth flooding her chest as she watched their excitement bloom. Her gaze flicked upward — only to find Yujin watching her, eyes gentle, lips curved into a smile that made Wonyoung’s heart falter. For a moment, she had to look down at her own tray, her fingers gripping the fork a little tighter.  

As the little animal-shaped trays grew emptier and the chatter softened, Yujin leaned forward, her gaze shifting between her two children. Her voice was soft, careful, almost as though she was testing the waters of their fragile mood. 

“Hyunseo, Jinu… are you both happy now? Okay?” 

Jinu, who had been nibbling on the last piece of his T-rex nugget, paused. His small eyes lifted to meet his mother’s, he gave a small nod, the corner of his lips twitching into a tiny smile. 

Hyunseo, always more expressive, reached across the table to tug at Yujin’s sleeve. “We’re happy now, Mommy.” Her little voice carried certainty. 

Relief softened Yujin’s shoulders. She reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear, smiling. “Good. Then let’s forget about what happened this morning, hmm? Don’t think too much about it. Grandpa… wasn’t in the best mood, that’s all.” 

Hyunseo tilted her head, lips pursed in thought. “Did Grandpa wake up with a bad mood then?” 

Yujin chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Maybe. Some mornings are like that.” 

It was then that Wonyoung, who had been quiet until now, lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. She took a breath, steadying herself, before speaking, her voice soft and laced with guilt. “I… I’m sorry. Because of me, your family breakfast was ruined.” 

The twins immediately turned to her, eyes widening, but before they could speak, Yujin reached across the table without hesitation. Her hand closed around Wonyoung’s, firm and warm, making Wonyoung’s breath hitch. 

“Don’t say that,” Yujin murmured, her gaze steady, unwavering. “You did nothing wrong. Actually… I appreciate the way you stood up for them. For us.” 

Jinu’s head bobbed in quick agreement, his little hand shooting up. “Me too! Thank you, Noona.” 

Hyunseo nodded eagerly, her cheeks round as she beamed. “Thank you, Unnie. We love you!” 

The words hit Wonyoung’s chest like an arrow, so pure and unguarded. Her lips parted, trembling, but before she could reply, Hyunseo leaned her cheek against Wonyoung’s arm. “And you are family. Grandpa just doesn’t know yet. He was just shocked ‘cause it’s the first time meeting you. But once he eats your cooking—” she looked up, eyes wide with certainty, “—he’ll agree too!” 

Jinu bobbed his head in strong agreement. “Yeah! He’ll love it, just like we do!” 

A small laugh slipped from Yujin, the kind that curved her lips softly and warmed the edges of her voice. “They’re right,” she said, her thumb brushing gently across Wonyoung’s knuckles. 

That was when Wonyoung’s vision blurred. Her throat tightened, her heart aching with the force of it all. She tried to blink the tears back, but one slipped free anyway, trailing hot against her cheek. 

The twins gasped dramatically, their hands flying to their mouths. “Omo!” Hyunseo squealed. “Unnie’s crying!” 

“Don’t cry, Noona!” Jinu was already slipping out of his seat, scurrying to her side. Hyunseo quickly followed, and soon, the two of them pressed against her — one at each side — wrapping their little arms around her waist. 

Wonyoung choked on a laugh, hugging them back, her tears dampening the top of their heads. “You two…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You two are too sweet.” 

Jinu tilted his head up from her embrace, his small eyes glistening. “Mommy, aren’t you gonna join too?” 

Yujin’s heart squeezed at the sight before her — the woman who had been a stranger just months ago, now holding her children as though they had always been hers. Slowly, she rose from her seat, her expression softening as she stepped closer. 

“Of course I will.”

And then she wrapped her arms around all three of them, folding them into the warmth of her embrace. Wonyoung was caught in the center, breath hitching as Yujin’s chin brushed the crown of her head, the twins giggling between them, cocooned in the safety of a love that felt so tangible it could almost be seen. 

***

Late afternoon sunlight poured into the penthouse, streaks of orange gilding the polished floor. The twins were shrieking with delight, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Wonyoung stood in the middle of the living room, her arms outstretched, knees bent slightly as she stalked forward with a mock growl. 

“Raaawr! The monster is coming!” she cried, her voice playful but her movements exaggerated and slow, giving the children just enough time to scramble away. 

Hyunseo darted behind the sofa, her pigtails bouncing as she ducked low, peeking out with wide eyes. Jinu clutched a cushion to his chest like a shield before squealing, “Noona’s gonna eat us!” His little legs carried him to the far corner, where he crouched behind a chair, giggling uncontrollably. 

The scene was chaos — joyful, bright chaos and in the middle of it, Wonyoung’s heart swelled. She had never known her life could sound like this. 

The sound of footsteps padded softly down the hall, then Yujin appeared at the edge of the room. Dressed casually after changing out of her morning attire, she leaned on the doorframe, her lips curving as she took in the commotion. The twins hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy squealing as Wonyoung crept closer with an exaggerated hiss. 

It wasn’t until Jinu shrieked, “Mommy! Mommy, help! Wonyoung Noona is a monster!” that Yujin’s laugh slipped out. The warm, genuine sound drew all eyes to her. 

Wonyoung froze mid-step, her arms still clawed in the air, blinking at Yujin. The twins gasped dramatically, their faces lighting up. 

“Mommy!” Hyunseo squealed, springing from her hiding spot. “Can you play with us?” 

Yujin’s brow arched in mock surprise, her smile tugging wider as she crossed the room. “Can I? Really? You’d let me join?” 

The twins nodded furiously, tugging her toward the center of their battlefield. Wonyoung, still frozen in her monster stance, let out a laugh that shook her shoulders. She hadn’t expected Yujin to insert herself into their silly little game. 

Hyunseo clutched her mother’s hand tightly. “Of course! You can be the monster now!” 

Yujin crouched slightly, eyeing her children with mock seriousness. “The monster, huh? So what’s the rule of this game?” 

Jinu puffed his chest, eager to explain. “The monster has to find us! And if you find us, you eat us!” He giggled, ducking behind his cushion again. 

“Oh, I see,” Yujin drawled, her voice low and amused. She flicked a glance at Wonyoung then, eyes dancing as though the thought of eating someone else entirely had just crossed her mind. “And do I win if I find everyone?” 

Hyunseo nodded vigorously. “Yes! You win, Mommy!” 

“Then I’ll play,” Yujin said smoothly, leaning back against the wall, arms folding casually before she shifted to press one elbow against it. “But I’ll need to count.” 

“Count to twenty, Mommy. Really slow.” Hyunseo said.

Yujin’s gaze lingered on Wonyoung just a second too long before she shut her eyes. 

Jinu tugged at Wonyoung’s sleeve, bouncing on his feet. “Noona! You’re not the monster now! You have to hide too! But you better hide really good…” His eyes widened dramatically, “…or else Mommy will eat you!” 

The word hung in the air, playful for the boy, but carrying a different weight for Wonyoung. Her body went stiff, heat blooming up her neck, and she cursed silently in her head. Of all phrases, eat her? 

Her thoughts spiraled immediately, shame and desire tangling in her chest. Jang Wonyoung, you pervert, why are you thinking of that? Why does she make me think of that? Her cheeks burned hotter the longer Yujin stood there, head bowed, counting in that steady, low voice. 

“One… two…” 

Wonyoung’s heart stuttered as Yujin’s lips curved into a smirk, one corner of her mouth tugging upward as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She peeked open one eye, meeting Wonyoung’s gaze directly across the room. 

“…three… four…” 

Wonyoung swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, scooping Hyunseo into her arms to hide the sudden fluster in her expression. I can’t believe that’s all I’m going to think about now… 

“Come on, Noona! Hide!” Hyunseo whispered urgently against her ear, giggling. 

“Y-Yeah…” Wonyoung stammered, her voice shaky as she carried the little girl toward the hallway. Her eyes flicked once more to Yujin, who closed her eyes again with deliberate calm, leaning into the wall like she had all the time in the world. 

“…five… six…”

That smile was still there — dangerous.

***

The storage room was small, lined with boxes and shelves, the faint smell of cedarwood and detergent filling the dark space. Wonyoung crouched low, hugging her knees to her chest, her breath shallow in the stillness. She had turned off the light before slipping in, the only illumination now a sliver of gold seeping through the crack beneath the door. 

Her heart raced. It’s just a game. Hide-and-seek. That’s it. 

But then— 

“GOT YOU!” Yujin’s voice roared from the living room, followed by Hyunseo’s delighted shriek. The sound of her daughter giggling uncontrollably echoed down the hallway, muffled by the walls. Wonyoung couldn’t help smiling despite herself; she could picture it so clearly — Yujin sweeping Hyunseo into her arms, growling playfully into her neck until the girl shrieked louder. 

Moments later came Jinu’s yelp, a high-pitched squeal that dissolved into laughter. “Nooo! Mommy ate me!” he wailed dramatically. 

Wonyoung covered her mouth to stifle her chuckle. Her chest tightened at how alive the twins sounded, their joy vibrating through the penthouse. 

Then Jinu’s voice rang out suddenly, closer this time — almost taunting, carrying through the walls like a prophecy. 

“Wonyoung Noona, you better hide! Or else Mommy’s gonna eat you too!” 

The words landed like a stone in her stomach. 

She froze, her smile dying on her lips. 

Not a threat. Not at all. If anything, it was exactly the opposite — something her body wanted. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, heat curling in her belly as images she shouldn’t be thinking of flared unbidden in her head. 

Stop. Stop, Wonyoung. It’s just a word. He’s a kid. You’re disgusting. Why are you like this? 

She shut her eyes tight, pressing her forehead against her knees, silently scolding herself. You’re their nanny. You’re supposed to be hiding from their mother. Not wishing— 

The creak of a floorboard cut through her spiraling thoughts. 

Her breath caught. 

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Drawing nearer. 

The sound echoed in the hall outside the storage room. A pause. Another step. Then another. 

Her palms began to sweat as she pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering so loudly she was terrified it would give her away. 

The handle rattled once. 

She bit her lip hard, holding her breath, her entire body tensing in anticipation. 

The door creaked open, a shaft of light spilling briefly into the cramped storage room — then shut again with a decisive click. 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. Yujin stood in front of the door, her back leaning casually against it, one hand sliding up to twist the lock into place. A low smirk played on her lips as her gaze pinned Wonyoung against the shadows. 

“Caught you,” Yujin murmured, her voice smooth, dangerous in the quiet. 

Wonyoung’s throat went dry. She shuffled back a little, though there was nowhere to go in the narrow room. Her voice trembled when she whispered, “A-are you… gonna eat me now?” 

That smirk curved wider. Yujin stepped forward slowly, deliberately, until the heat of her body pressed close. She leaned down, her breath grazing the shell of Wonyoung’s ear. 

“Do you want me to eat you out?” she teased, her voice low, sultry, a whisper that sent shivers down Wonyoung’s spine. 

Wonyoung’s knees nearly buckled. She couldn’t speak — her lips parted, but only a small gasp escaped before she managed the tiniest, shaky nod. 

Yujin’s hand lifted, fingers grazing the edge of Wonyoung’s jaw, tilting her chin up with the faintest pressure. “Tempting,” she purred, her eyes glinting, “because I do want to eat you.” 

Before Wonyoung could breathe, Yujin’s mouth was on hers — sudden, claiming, igniting sparks through every nerve in Wonyoung’s body. Her lips moved urgently, sending Wonyoung reeling, clutching at Yujin’s sleeves as her chest heaved. 

Then Yujin’s lips left hers, trailing fire down her throat, pressing against the sensitive skin until Wonyoung gasped audibly, her hand instinctively covering her mouth to silence herself. 

“Y-Yujin, where are the twins?” she whispered desperately, half from panic, half from arousal. 

“Relax,” Yujin’s voice hummed against her neck, her lips brushing there with every word. “They’re busy cleaning up their toys. I told them we’d check after.” 

Her resolve broke. Wonyoung’s lips parted in surrender, and when Yujin came back to her mouth, she kissed her back — hungrily, helplessly, her body betraying her with every response. 

But just as the heat deepened, the sound of small voices filtered through the hallway. 

“Mommy? Wonyoung Noona? Where are you?” 

The two froze, their breaths mingling. Then Yujin pulled back, her grin sly and composed, not a trace of guilt. She smoothed her thumb over Wonyoung’s jaw one last time before unlocking the door. 

“Later,” she promised, her eyes lingering, her smile dangerous. 

She opened the door and stepped out, one hand reaching back to tug Wonyoung along with her as if nothing had happened. 

“The monster caught Wonyoung,” Yujin announced dramatically to the twins, her tone shifting back to playful mom. “So Mommy wins.” 

Jinu’s little face crumpled in disappointment. “Nooo!” he groaned, stomping his foot. “I was rooting for Wonyoung Noona!” 

Hyunseo giggled but tried to console her brother, patting his shoulder. 

Wonyoung’s cheeks burned, but she forced a shy smile, crouching down beside them. “Well,” she said gently, “your mommy is really good at this game. No wonder she won.” 

Jinu pouted, still not letting it go. “But I wanted us to win…” 

Wonyoung’s heart melted. She reached out and ruffled his hair. “Don’t be sad, Jinu. You know what I learned today?” 

“What?” he asked, looking up at her through his lashes. 

“That you, Hyunseo and your mom are amazing at games. The best teammates. So even if we lost, I feel lucky to have been on your side. You bought me time.” 

That shifted his pout into a proud grin. “Yeah! We’re really good at games! We’re a family of winners!” he declared, chest puffed out. 

Hyunseo giggled again and nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right, a family team!” 

***

Later, the twins sprawled out comfortably on the carpet, their small shoulders bumping as they giggled at the cartoon flickering on the massive television. Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the high ceilings in a way that softened the day’s earlier heaviness. 

On the couch behind them, Wonyoung sat with her knees tucked to the side, the hem of her soft sweater brushing her thighs. Beside her, Yujin leaned back casually, an arm draped over the backrest, her posture relaxed and her eyes glued to the twins. 

Wonyoung’s lips curled as she leaned slightly toward her, lowering her voice so only Yujin could hear. “I’m glad you’re making more time for them,” she whispered, glancing at the twins with tenderness. “They’re so much happier when you’re here, not buried in work.” 

Yujin’s jaw softened at that. A faint, almost shy smile tugged at her lips as she gave a small nod. “I’m trying,” she admitted, her voice low, her tone touched with a mixture of guilt and longing. “I miss them too.” 

Then, with a quick glance toward Wonyoung, her lips moved silently, shaping words that weren’t meant for the twins to hear. And you. 

The whispered confession made Wonyoung’s heart skip, her breath catching in her throat. Before she could respond, Yujin continued. “I promise I’ll always make time for them. I realize…” she paused, exhaling slowly, “I’ve been passing off what I should have been doing as a mom onto you. I’m sorry, Wonyoung.” 

Wonyoung shook her head immediately, her brows knitting in protest. Her lips puffed into a little pout before curving into a smile. “Don’t apologize,” she whispered back, her eyes soft. “It’s not just my job as their nanny. I… I care for them. I love them.” 

The sincerity in her tone lingered between them like a spark that neither could ignore. Yujin’s gaze held hers for a moment longer, something unspoken swimming in her eyes, before she looked away toward the twins. 

Straightening suddenly, Yujin raised her voice enough for the whole room to hear. “Alright,” she announced, a note of playfulness slipping in. “Tonight, I’ll cook dinner.” 

The reaction was instant. Both twins whipped their heads around from the carpet, their eyes wide as saucers. 

“Really, Mommy?!” Hyunseo squealed, bouncing up on her knees. 

“Are you serious?” Jinu added, half in disbelief, half in excitement. “You haven’t cooked in forever!” 

Their faces were bright with joy, almost glowing. It was as if their mother had just promised them a trip to the moon. 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened too, though she hid her surprise behind a polite smile. Inside, her mind was racing. Oh my god. This is the first time An Yujin is actually going to cook since I got here. Her curiosity itched beneath her skin, and her lips threatened to curl into a grin. I’m dying to see this. No doubt she’s good — her refined palate, her taste in food… she won’t accept anything less than perfection. 

She sneaked another glance at the twins, their reactions confirming her hunch. They miss her cooking, too. 

“What are you going to make?” Hyunseo pressed eagerly, scooting closer to the couch. 

“Something delicious,” Yujin said simply, her confident smirk returning as she stood up and rolled up her sleeves. 

Jinu hopped to his feet too, his excitement bubbling over. “Can we help? Please? Please?” 

Wonyoung couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, warmth unfurling in her chest as she rose as well. This — watching the twins beam at their mother, watching Yujin try reclaim something she had set aside for a while.

And I’ll finally see how An Yujin looks in the kitchen… 

 

Chapter 10: the real reason why

 

The kitchen filled with a different kind of energy that night. For once, it wasn’t Wonyoung guiding the meal prep or rushing around with the twins tugging at her apron — it was Yujin, rolling up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater, hair tied back in a neat ponytail as if she had been waiting for this moment. 

“I’ll make omurice for the twins,” Yujin said, “and a truffle cream pasta for me and Wonyoung. And some sides.” 

The twins clapped, both cheering in unison, “Omurice! Omurice!” Jinu bounced up and down, while Hyunseo tugged on her mother’s sleeve, asking if she could help crack the eggs. 

Yujin smiled faintly, softening. “Alright, you can help me whisk them.” 

It turned into a lively little scene. Wonyoung guided the twins in washing vegetables and carefully lining up the ingredients. The marble countertop was soon sprinkled with laughter and tiny smudges of ingredients from the twins’ overly eager hands. But when the real cooking began, Yujin drew the line. “Enough, chefs. You three can sit now,” she said, pointing to the counter stools with her spatula like a commander directing her troops. 

Obediently, the twins scrambled up the stools, dragging Wonyoung with them. “Sit, unnie! Sit!” Hyunseo insisted, patting the empty space beside her. Wonyoung chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel before sliding into the seat. 

From her vantage point on the counter, she watched Yujin take over the kitchen completely. The quiet elegance of her movements was… mesmerizing. She moved with efficiency and grace, switching between boiling the pasta and swirling the eggs in the pan for omurice as if she had choreographed this moment in advance. The eggs, golden and fluffy, slid perfectly over the rice in one seamless motion. 

Wonyoung leaned her cheek into her palm, unable to tear her eyes away. There was something breathtaking about seeing Yujin like this — focused, intent, domestic in the softest way. Not the distant executive or the polished, intimidating presence she usually carried, but a woman cooking for her children, cooking for her. 

Inside, Wonyoung’s heart ached in the sweetest way. It felt good being the one waiting… being the one anticipating. She had always been the one who fed, who cared, who prepared. But now — sitting here, watching Yujin move around the stove — it was like being given something she hadn’t realized she craved. 

When someone cooks for you, personally, with their own hands — that’s love. 

She bit down on her lip lightly, trying not to let her emotions spill in front of the twins. But her eyes stayed fixed on Yujin, tracing every careful movement, every little detail. 

Even the way Yujin reached for the salt, tasting and adjusting with a delicate flick of her wrist, was enough to make Wonyoung’s heart race. She imagined this scene over and over, a hundred different evenings, as if this moment could stretch into forever — just the four of them, gathered in this warm kitchen, waiting for Yujin’s food. 

***

Dinner that night felt unlike any other. The dining table, usually quiet with the twins picking at Wonyoung’s careful cooking while Yujin arrived late or tired, now brimmed with a much lighter mood. Yujin herself set down the plates — two omurice dishes with ketchup hearts drawn across the golden surface. 

The twins’ eyes widened as if they’d just been served a five-star feast. “Wow!” Jinu exclaimed, cutting into his omurice with his spoon. The egg parted like silk, revealing warm rice beneath, and he squealed, “It’s perfect, Mommy!” 

Hyunseo, ever a little more composed, nodded firmly, spooning up her first bite and giving a serious thumbs-up before giggling. “Daebak.” 

For her and Wonyoung, Yujin set down two shallow bowls of truffle cream pasta. The aroma of truffle oil and parmesan filled the air, decadent but comforting. Wonyoung picked up her fork, twirling the pasta gently, her curiosity heightened. The first bite melted against her tongue, rich and earthy with a delicate balance only someone who truly understood flavors could craft. 

Her eyes widened slightly. “This is… so good.” She turned toward Yujin, sincerity soft in her voice. “You’re a good cook, Yujin.”

Yujin tilted her head, feigning nonchalance but unable to hide the little smirk tugging at her lips. “I’m not just a businesswoman, you know,” she replied smoothly. “I studied culinary, too.” 

Wonyoung leaned back, eyes twinkling. “I know.” 

Yujin arched a brow, teasing. “You know everything about me, don’t you?” 

Wonyoung grinned, biting down on her fork playfully. “Not everything.” 

The air between them warmed with an undercurrent that made Wonyoung’s cheeks pink, but she hid it by turning her gaze back to the twins, who were happily devouring their omurice. 

The rest of dinner unfolded in warm rhythm. The twins chatted about school, made lists of places they wanted to go on weekends — the aquarium, the amusement park, the seaside. “Promise, Mommy?” Hyunseo demanded with wide, hopeful eyes. 

Yujin chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Promise. We’ll make time.” 

Jinu grinned, pumping his fist. “Family weekends!” 

Yujin then leaned across the table, spearing a bit of truffle pasta onto her fork and holding it out toward Hyunseo. “Want to try?” 

Hyunseo leaned forward cautiously, sniffed, then made a face. “Ew. It smells weird.” 

Yujin laughed, eyes crinkling. “What? This is truffle pasta, Hyunseo.” 

“Ew,” Hyunseo repeated, scrunching her nose, which made Jinu laugh so hard he almost choked on his food. 

Later, after dinner was finished and the plates cleared, the rhythm shifted again into the comfortable routines of home. Yujin bathed the twins — Hyunseo first, humming softly as she washed her daughter’s hair, then Jinu, who splashed water everywhere until Yujin scolded him lightly but with a smile. Wonyoung helped dry their hair and chose their pajamas, marveling quietly at how gentle Yujin was when no one else was watching. 

By the time they were tucked into bed, the twins were fighting to keep their eyes open. Jinu clung to Wonyoung’s sleeve, whispering, “Don’t go too far, noona,” before drifting off. Hyunseo mumbled sleepily that they should dream of the zoo animals together, then fell into a peaceful slumber. 

After the twins were tucked into bed, the penthouse felt quieter than usual. Wonyoung thought they would head to the office again, the way they usually did when serious conversations or wine-filled silences drew them closer. But this time, Yujin didn’t lead her there. 

Instead, Yujin stopped in the hallway, pausing outside the door to her own room. She turned the knob without a word and glanced back at Wonyoung. “Come,” she said softly. 

 Wonyoung froze for a beat. Yujin’s bedroom? She had been inside before — to drop off folded laundry, to tidy the sheets when Yujin left for work — but never like this, never as an invited guest. 

“Sit,” she murmured. 

Wonyoung obeyed, sinking into the couch cushions, her palms pressed to her knees to stop them from trembling. She couldn’t tell if it was nerves about finally being in her room, or the way the bedroom smelled like Yujin’s perfume — subtle jasmine, faint sandalwood — enveloping her in something dizzying. 

Trying to ease the tension, Wonyoung tilted her head, lips curving. “No wine tonight?” she teased softly. 

Yujin’s lips twitched. For a moment, her eyes softened, the corners of her mouth lifting. “No,” she said, her voice low and husky, the kind of sound that filled the silence like velvet. Then she leaned just slightly closer, gaze catching Wonyoung’s, and whispered, “I want to eat you fully sober.” 

Heat flushed straight to Wonyoung’s cheeks, her breath hitching. Her skin tingled just from the words, from the promise that wasn’t really a promise but felt like a threat in the best way — like Yujin’s voice alone could undo her. Her imagination betrayed her, flickering with images she shouldn’t be thinking about right now, not when this was supposed to be serious. 

Wonyoung swallowed, looking away, hugging her arms to herself as if to shield her thundering heart. “You — always teasing…” she muttered under her breath, but the pink on her ears gave her away. 

Yujin let out the faintest chuckle, then leaned back, her expression softening. She brushed her hair behind her ear, inhaled deeply, and exhaled as though steadying herself for something she didn’t usually allow herself to say out loud. She leaned forward, her voice low, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I told you I wanted to eat you sober, didn’t I?” 

Wonyoung’s breath caught. The teasing lilt, the glimmer in Yujin’s eyes — it was almost too much. Her skin prickled as though the very air around her had become charged. She tried to respond, but all that left her mouth was a small stutter, a helpless little sound that only seemed to amuse Yujin further. 

And then, Yujin kissed her. 

It wasn’t soft at first — it was hungry, like Yujin had been holding herself back for too long. Wonyoung melted into it, her hands instinctively finding the curves of Yujin’s shoulders, gripping the fabric of her shirt like if she didn’t hold on, she’d drift away. The kiss deepened, stealing her breath, stealing her thoughts, until there was nothing left but the heat curling in her stomach. 
 
Yujin’s hands were everywhere — sliding down Wonyoung’s arms, across her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Wonyoung felt herself being guided backward, her knees brushing the edge of the bed, and then she was lying down with Yujin above her, their lips still locked in a kiss that made her head spin. 

When Yujin finally pulled back, just slightly, their lips still brushed as she whispered, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? I’ve been holding myself since afternoon.”

 Wonyoung’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Her reply was a whisper. “Me too.” 

That was all Yujin needed. 

Her hands slid under Wonyoung’s shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of her waist, making Wonyoung gasp. Clothes became a blur — shirts discarded, jeans tugged away, soft sounds of fabric hitting the floor between kisses and muffled laughter. Every touch felt electric, every graze of fingers and press of lips a promise that neither of them wanted to take back. 

Wonyoung arched into Yujin’s touch, her body aching for more, every nerve alive. She was blushing so hard she thought her cheeks might burn, but her hands still roamed — through Yujin’s hair, down her back, tugging her impossibly closer. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Yujin murmured between kisses, her lips brushing along Wonyoung’s jaw, down her throat. 

Wonyoung closed her eyes, shivering. “You’re just saying that…” 

But Yujin shook her head against her skin, her voice firm. “No. You are. And I can’t wait another second to taste you.” 

Wonyoung’s heart nearly stopped. Her entire body reacted before her mind could, her back arching, her hands tightening in Yujin’s hair as the words sank in. She wanted to say something witty, something teasing — but all she could do was nod, her voice breaking with a whispered plea, “Please…” 

Yujin’s mouth trailed lower, kissing a heated path down Wonyoung’s throat, across her collarbone, lingering at the swell of her chest. Her hands smoothed over Wonyoung’s sides, steady and possessive. 

Wonyoung could hardly breathe. Her body trembled under Yujin’s touch, anticipation building until she thought she might explode. 

When Yujin pulled back just enough to look at her, her dark eyes blazing with want, she smirked. “Relax, baby… I’m going to make you feel so good.” 

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of Wonyoung’s panties and tugged them slowly down her legs, deliberately, savoring the way Wonyoung’s blush deepened. Wonyoung whimpered, covering her face with her hands for a moment before daring to peek through her fingers. 

Yujin chuckled lowly at her shyness. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see everything.” 

Wonyoung’s hands fell back against the sheets, her chest heaving, her body bare and open under Yujin’s gaze. She felt utterly vulnerable. 

Yujin settled between her thighs, spreading them gently, her warm hands stroking the inside of Wonyoung’s thighs until the muscles stopped trembling quite so much. Then, without warning, she lowered her mouth and pressed the softest kiss against Wonyoung’s wetness. 

Wonyoung gasped, her hips jerking upward. “Y-Yujin—!” 

But Yujin only groaned softly in approval. “God, you taste so good, every time.” 

She licked a slow stripe up Wonyoung’s slit, her tongue teasing, swirling lightly around her clit before retreating again, leaving Wonyoung whimpering in frustration. Yujin’s hands gripped her thighs tighter, keeping her pinned. 

Wonyoung’s fingers clutched at the sheets, her breath coming in broken gasps. Every flick of Yujin’s tongue sent fire coursing through her body, her hips trembling with the urge to grind against Yujin’s mouth. 

“Please,” she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice. “Please don’t stop.” 

Yujin hummed against her, sending vibrations straight through her, before diving back in, her tongue stroking and circling Wonyoung’s clit with precision. One of her hands slid up, pinning Wonyoung’s hips down as her other hand slipped lower, a finger sliding teasingly at her entrance before slowly pushing inside. 

Wonyoung cried out, arching, her hands flying to Yujin’s hair and tugging, needing her closer. “Yujin—oh my god—” 

Yujin’s lips wrapped around her clit and sucking gently while her finger thrust in and out in rhythm. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

Yujin’s tongue flicking relentlessly, her finger curling just right inside her, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in Wonyoung’s core until she thought she couldn’t take it. Her thighs shook, her moans growing higher, louder, until finally the wave crashed over her. 

Wonyoung cried out, her entire body trembling, her back arching as pleasure ripped through her, overwhelming and sweet. Yujin didn’t let up, her mouth and fingers working her through every aftershock until Wonyoung was left shaking, gasping, nearly sobbing from the intensity. 

Yujin didn’t stop after Wonyoung came the first time. If anything, that first orgasm only seemed to ignite something darker, hungrier in her. 

Wonyoung lay trembling on the sheets, still gasping, her thighs weak and twitching but Yujin held her down firmly, eyes gleaming as she licked her lips. 

“Not done,” she murmured huskily, dipping her head again. “You can give me more.” 

Before Wonyoung could protest, Yujin’s mouth was back on her, tongue sliding deep, sucking her clit with greedy precision. Wonyoung shrieked, her hands flying to Yujin’s hair, tugging helplessly. 

“Yujin—ahh, I-I can’t—” 

Her tongue worked relentlessly, sometimes slow and torturous, sometimes fast and devastating. She slid two fingers inside, curling perfectly, hitting that spot that made Wonyoung see white. 

Wonyoung writhed. Her voice was broken, moans tumbling uncontrollably as her body buckled against the sheets. Each orgasm came harder, faster, building on the last until she was sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Yujin didn’t give her any chance to recover. Each time Wonyoung fell limp, thinking it was over, Yujin would drag her back into another peak — sucking, licking, thrusting her fingers deeper, refusing to stop. 

Her thighs trembled violently, her chest heaving. “P-Please — Yujin— I can’t — oh god —!” 

Yujin pulled back just for a moment, lips glistening, smirking with pure satisfaction. She kissed Wonyoung’s inner thigh before looking up at her flushed face. 

“Yes, you can,” she whispered wickedly. “You’re mine. And I want to taste every single bit of you.” 

Then she dove back in, devouring her like a woman starved. 

Time lost all meaning. The room was filled only with the slick sounds of Yujin’s mouth, Wonyoung’s strangled cries, the bed sheets twisting under her fists as her body surrendered over and over. 

By the time Yujin finally slowed, Wonyoung was utterly ruined — her legs shaking violently, her voice hoarse from moaning, her whole body covered in a sheen of sweat. She could barely form words, only whimpers. 

Yujin had driven her to the edge, and beyond it. Wonyoung lay trembling beneath her, chest rising and falling erratically, skin slick with sweat, her thighs still quivering from the relentless way Yujin devoured her. For a long second, all she could do was try to catch her breath, her fingers still tangled in Yujin’s dark hair. 

She kissed her way back up, her mouth wet, her expression smug but tender. She cradled Wonyoung’s face and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on Yujin’s tongue. 

“You did so good,” Yujin murmured against her lips. “So, so good for me.” 

But then, something shifted inside her. A deep, undeniable need. It wasn’t enough to simply take. She wanted to give. To make Yujin feel the way she had just felt — undone, consumed, seen. 

“Come here,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice rough, almost pleading. She tugged at Yujin until they rolled, until Yujin was on her back and Wonyoung hovered over her, lips grazing hers in a breathless kiss that carried both gratitude and hunger. 

Yujin smirked against her mouth, teasing, “You can’t possibly still have strength left after that.” 

Wonyoung answered by sliding down her body, slow, deliberate, kissing over Yujin’s collarbone, down her stomach. When she finally touched her, tasted her, Yujin’s control shattered. A low, broken sound tore from her throat as her head fell back against the pillow, fingers tightening in the sheets. Wonyoung was unrelenting, mirroring Yujin’s intensity from earlier — every stroke, every flick of her tongue calculated to draw out deeper and deeper sounds, to make Yujin feel as worshipped as she had. 

Her hesitation burned away the moment she heard Yujin’s voice falter into that first broken moan. Something primal took over. She wanted to see Yujin fall apart the way she had — no, she needed it. 

Her mouth was relentless, her tongue tracing deep, greedy strokes, while her hand slipped lower, fingers curling inside Yujin with firm, steady precision. Yujin’s back arched off the mattress, her hands fisting in Wonyoung’s hair, not to stop her but to hold on. 

Every time Yujin’s body trembled, every gasp that escaped her lips, only spurred Wonyoung further. She alternated between sucking, flicking, and pressing her tongue with the kind of hunger that left Yujin undone, her usually sharp voice breaking into ragged pleas. 

“Wonyoung—” Her voice cracked, the sound low and desperate. “Don’t stop—” 

And Wonyoung didn’t. She pushed harder, deeper, the rhythm of her fingers and her mouth synced in a way that drove Yujin higher and higher until she was trembling violently, every muscle straining, her cries muffled by the back of her hand against her lips. 

Yujin, always so composed, so untouchable, was left shaking, utterly wrecked under Wonyoung’s devotion. 

When it was finally over, when Yujin collapsed back against the bed sheets, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, Wonyoung slowly crawled back up her body, pressing gentle kisses on her skin — soft after all the intensity. 

Yujin caught her face with trembling hands, pulling her into a kiss that was shaky but fierce, tasting of gratitude and awe. 

“You’re going to ruin me.” 

***

The room was hushed except for their ragged breaths. The sheets were tangled around their legs, skin flushed and slick against one another. Wonyoung lay on her side, her hair messy across the pillow, her lips still parted as if she hadn’t quite returned from the storm Yujin had dragged her through. Her thighs still trembled faintly, betraying just how relentless Yujin had been. 

Yujin shifted closer, one arm sliding around Wonyoung’s waist to pull her in until there was no space left between them. Their bare skin pressed together, warm, sticky, impossibly intimate.

“Yujin…” Wonyoung whispered, dazed, voice hoarse from gasps and cries she couldn’t hold back. Her hand trailed across Yujin’s collarbone, fingertips lingering. 

Yujin exhaled softly, her breath warm against Wonyoung’s hair. For a long moment, she just held her, her thumb drawing lazy circles against the small of Wonyoung’s back. It was different now, calmer. She leaned her forehead against Wonyoung’s, her fingers brushing through her hair with surprising tenderness. “Now… I’ll tell you about Yeonjun. Why I filed for divorce. Why he hasn’t been here for the last five months.” Her gaze drifted toward the window, as though she could see beyond the night skyline. “You deserve to know. Especially after everything you’ve done for the twins. For me.” 

The room stilled with her words. The teasing had vanished now it was just raw honesty that Wonyoung knew she wasn’t imagining. She folded her hands together in her lap, her chest tight, and whispered, “I’m listening.” 

Yujin leaned back against the pillow, one leg drawn casually over Wonyoung’s legs. Wonyoung kept quiet, her pulse racing, afraid if she spoke she might break the fragile openness Yujin was offering. 

“Yeonjun…” Yujin began, her voice low, thoughtful, as though saying his name after so long felt foreign on her tongue. She let the syllables hang in the air before continuing. “He was a wonderful husband. A wonderful father. I won’t ever take that away from him. When things were good, they were really good.” 

Wonyoung nodded faintly, trying to picture it — Yujin and Yeonjun smiling together, the twins smaller, laughter filling the same penthouse walls. 

“But everything turned south after…” Yujin’s eyes lowered, lashes shadowing her gaze. “…after he lost in Culinary Wars.” 

The name of the show landed heavily between them, and Wonyoung almost held her breath. 

“Well, truthfully, it was happening even before then.” Yujin’s lips twisted into something pained, almost self-mocking. “His dishes were… rejected more often. His ideas weren’t lining up with investors anymore. He was trying so hard to push boundaries, but nothing was clicking. And me—” she paused, a humorless laugh escaping, “—I thought I was helping when I pushed him to join that program. I thought maybe he just needed a change of scenery. A challenge to reignite his passion.” 

Her eyes flicked to Wonyoung’s, a flicker of guilt so sharp it made Wonyoung’s chest tighten. 

“But it didn’t help,” Yujin whispered. “It pushed him further to the edge. He came home after that loss… different. Angrier. Always carrying this storm in him. His moods were off, volatile. We’d fight constantly, over everything and nothing. The twins…” She stopped, her voice faltering just for a second, then steadied herself. “…The twins didn’t understand why their dad wasn’t smiling anymore. Why he was gone so often. Why he came home smelling of alcohol.” 

Wonyoung’s lips parted, her throat tightening. She could see it, could feel the heaviness of that version of the penthouse — weeks turning into months of slammed doors, bitter words, the sound of arguments echoing down hallways while two children was left in confusion. 

Yujin’s jaw clenched, her eyes drifting toward the floor as though she couldn’t bear Wonyoung’s gaze now. “I told myself it was temporary. That he would find his way back with our help. But weeks became months. And every night he came home drunk, it felt like he was slipping further away… from me, from the twins, from himself.” 

Wonyoung’s heart ached at the imagery, her chest tightening. She imagined Yujin waiting by the door, the twins asleep, hearing the rattle of keys and smelling alcohol before Yeonjun even walked in. The loneliness in that picture made her curl closer, her hand pressing to Yujin’s chest, feeling her heartbeat.

Yujin inhaled slowly, bracing herself. Her voice lowered further, edged with both steel and sorrow. “And then… I found out he was cheating on me.” 

Wonyoung’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes widened in shock, though deep down, some part of her wasn’t entirely surprised. 

Yujin gave a small, bitter laugh — short, humorless. “I confronted him, of course. I couldn’t hold it in. But it only ended in a fight. He turned it back on me, said I was being selfish, that I was tearing the family apart by even thinking about divorce. He guilted me… said the twins needed him.” 

Her voice cracked slightly at that, though she forced herself to keep speaking. “And I thought about it. I did. I was so sure I didn’t want to be married to him anymore, but the twins were still so young. And when you’re a mother…” Yujin paused, a faint, sad smile tugging at her lips as she glanced at Wonyoung. “You realize that your choices aren’t just about you anymore. Even when your husband is cheating on you in front of your face, you still have to think about what’s best for your children.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes were already brimming, her chest aching at the thought of Yujin enduring that kind of betrayal alone. She reached up, cupping Yujin’s cheek, stroking her skin softly with her thumb. “Yujin…” she whispered, her voice trembling, as though she wanted to absorb even a fraction of that pain to ease the burden. 

Yujin’s voice grew quieter, the weight of memory pulling her back. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, her thumb unconsciously rubbing circles against Wonyoung’s hand. “But then… one day, I had to fly to Italy. We were expanding a restaurant there, and I couldn’t say no. It was only supposed to be two weeks. I figured those two weeks would be enough to think about everything and what’s better for our kids.” 

Wonyoung listened intently, her chest tightening at the way Yujin’s tone dropped like she was stepping into the darkest part of the story. 

“I thought… no matter what else, even if Yeonjun was a cheater, even if he wasn’t the same man anymore, he was still their father. He would care for them in my absence.” Yujin’s lips curled bitterly. “And whenever I called, the twins sounded fine. They’d say their dad cooked for them. They’d tell me they were okay. Sometimes they’d even laugh.” 

Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes. “But they always rushed me to come home. Every time, they asked when I’d be back. They’d say they missed me so much. I… I didn’t realize then what that meant.” 

Wonyoung’s brows furrowed, her heart pounding with unease. She could see it clearly: two small children forcing a brave face for their mother, terrified of what was happening behind closed doors. 

“When I finally came home…” Yujin exhaled shakily, her hand tightening around Wonyoung’s. “I understood everything in an instant. The twins were so relieved, almost clinging to me as if they’d been holding their breath the entire time I was gone. And then I saw…” She stopped, swallowing hard. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I saw bruises on Hyunseo’s arms. And Jinu…” 

Yujin’s breath hitched, her body trembling against Wonyoung. “Jinu had stitches. A cut on his head. My little boy. And he was smiling at me as if nothing was wrong, he believed it was his fault.” Her voice broke, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “I thought I was going to lose my mind.” 

Wonyoung’s own eyes welled, her throat tightening painfully. Her gaze darted to Jinu’s head in her mind — the faint scar she had noticed before but never asked about, assuming it was just a typical scar a boy would get from playing so much. Now the truth struck her like a blade. Her stomach turned, rage and sorrow burning inside her chest. 

“At first, they didn’t want to tell me anything,” Yujin continued, her voice low, trembling. “They were reluctant, afraid. But I urged them… I begged them to be honest with me. And when they finally admitted it…” Her jaw clenched, fury flashing in her eyes even as tears clung to her lashes. “When Yeonjun lost his temper, he took it out on them. On our children.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. The thought of the twins — the sweet, innocent twins — being on the receiving end of their father’s anger hurt so much. 

Yujin’s chest heaved as she went on, her voice jagged with rage and anguish. “That night, I threw him out. I didn’t care about excuses, didn’t care about his apologies or his drunken pleas. He tried to fight me for it — for staying, for control. And it turned physical.” Her lips trembled, and for the first time.

“I will never forget that night,” Yujin whispered, her eyes distant. “Because that was the night I swore he would never lay a hand on them again. Never.” 

Yujin’s voice lowered, almost like she was forcing the words out. “The next morning,” she said, “I called my lawyer and filed for divorce. There wasn’t a single doubt left in my mind. I packed all of his clothes, his books, every trace of him in this penthouse. When he came back a few days later — pretending like nothing happened — I shoved the suitcases into his arms and told him never to step inside this house again.” 

Her throat tightened as she gave a dry laugh. “My father tried to stop me. He said, ‘Do you know what this will look like? Do you think you can raise twins alone while running the company?’ Chairman An has always cared about reputation more than anything. But I didn’t care about the image anymore. My marriage with Yeonjun… that was already broken. But the moment he laid a hand on Jinu and Hyunseo — that was unforgivable. That was the line.” 

Wonyoung’s chest ached, watching her. So that’s why Yeonjun completely disappeared. That’s why I never once heard his voice, never once saw him try to call. Because Yujin made sure he couldn’t. 

Yujin leaned back against the headboard, her bare shoulders catching the soft glow of the lamp. She rubbed her temples and let out a slow breath. “He’s been trying to contact me ever since — calls, messages, begging to come back, saying he’ll change. But I made sure it was impossible. I filed for a restraining order immediately. He’s not allowed to get near the twins, not through the phone, not even by asking someone else to pass a message. Nothing. The court approved it because of the bruises, because of Jinu’s medical record.” Her fingers tightened on the blanket. “He’s legally cut off from them.” 

Wonyoung blinked against the sting in her eyes. 

Yujin finally looked at her again, her voice softer, but with a razor edge of fatigue. “The divorce proceedings…” She exhaled. “It’s ugly. There’s cheating involved, there’s domestic violence, child abuse. If Yeonjun had any shame left, he would’ve signed the papers months ago and that could give him the visitation rights. But he refuses. He’s dragging this out, contesting every step. He won’t risk anything being public, because if the truth comes out, his so-called reputation as a chef is finished. He knows it. So he’s stalling. He wants me to get tired and give in.” 

Her lips trembled for the first time that night, and she bit down on them before continuing. “We’ve been in and out of court for months, and nothing changes. Nothing moves forward. And Wonyoung…” Yujin’s voice cracked, and she shut her eyes briefly. “I’m terrified that one day, the judge might order the twins to testify. To sit in that cold courtroom, in front of strangers, and talk about what their father did. Do you know what kind of scar that would leave on them? I can’t—” She broke off, inhaling sharply, trying to keep her composure. 

Yujin’s words trailed off, her voice low, almost breaking under the weight of the memories she had just shared. Wonyoung turned her head on the pillow, eyes glistening as she looked at Yujin. 

“Yujin…” she whispered, reaching out to cup her cheek. Her thumb brushed over the faint crease of exhaustion between Yujin’s brows. “You’ve carried so much of this on your own for so long. But you don’t have to anymore. I’m here. For you. For the twins.” 

Her voice trembled, but the conviction in it was steady. “I’ll watch over them. I’ll make sure he never gets close again. You don’t have to face any of this alone.” 

Yujin closed her eyes for a moment, almost as if the words themselves were too much to bear. She leaned into Wonyoung’s touch, breathing in her presence like oxygen. Slowly, she lifted her hand and covered Wonyoung’s, holding it against her face. 

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” Yujin murmured, her tone rough with honesty. “You—” she paused, searching for the right words, “you and the twins are everything to me. And you…” Her voice softened, eyes opening again to meet Wonyoung’s. “I care about you so much, Wonyoung. More than I ever thought I could care about someone again.” 

Wonyoung swallowed hard, her heart racing. She shifted closer, pressing her forehead against Yujin’s, their noses brushing in the softest contact. “You mean so much to me too. I care about you so much it scares me sometimes,” she admitted, the words spilling like a secret she’d been holding in her chest for too long. 

Yujin’s lips curved faintly, not in her usual teasing smirk, but in something fragile, something unguarded. She exhaled slowly, letting her forehead rest against Wonyoung’s. Their closeness was enough, their breaths mingling, their bare skin warm under the sheets. 

Neither of them said the words they were both teetering on the edge of. Instead, Yujin tightened her arm around Wonyoung’s waist, pulling her in as though to shield her from everything outside this room. Wonyoung tucked herself against Yujin’s chest, listening to the steady thump of her heartbeat. 

***

The next morning, the penthouse was quiet in that in-between hour when the twins were still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Wonyoung had just finished setting the table for breakfast when she realized Yujin wasn’t around. She heard the faint murmur of a voice down the hall.

Her steps carried her closer, almost without thinking. The office door was half-closed. Wonyoung recognized Yujin’s tone instantly. She was on the phone.

“…fire Wonyoung? Today?”

Wonyoung froze.

Her pulse spiked instantly, as if the walls themselves had closed in. She pressed herself against the cool marble, straining to listen. 

Yujin’s tone was sharp, incredulous. But Wonyoung didn’t catch the whole sentence — only those words that struck like daggers. Fire Wonyoung. Today. 

Her chest squeezed. Was she really hearing this? 

Inside, Yujin continued, her voice firmer, clipped. “Is that really what you want me to do?” A pause, then, lower but still audible, “It’s different, Dad.” 

Dad.

The word twisted in Wonyoung’s stomach. Chairman An. 

The phone muffled as Yujin paced, her voice lowering again. Wonyoung couldn’t hear the rest — only fragments, clipped tones, the edge of frustration. But the words repeated in her head like a drumbeat. Fire her. Today. 

Her palms went clammy. She took a shaky step back, afraid Yujin would notice her standing there, listening. Her mind raced, tripping over itself. She’s firing me? After last night? After everything? 

The memory of Yujin’s lips on hers, the warmth of her embrace, the way she’d whispered how much Wonyoung meant to her — it all clashed violently with the harshness of those words. Was all of it going to vanish by tomorrow? 

Wonyoung’s chest tightened. A hundred questions burned in her throat. Had she done something wrong? Had she crossed a line? Was last night a mistake to Yujin? 

Is this the end for me here? 

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 7 of CRIME SCENE RETURN STORIES