You were an angel. You looked like god took his time carving you. Those doe eyes filled with plethora of innocence. Your smile was incandescent that lit up very room you entered. That nose that was almost perfect beyond imagination. Your flushed cheeks on your skin complimented you. Those black lucious hair that reached down til your feet You looked straight out of a revery, especially because of those white bird like wings. They made you look even more delicate and soft. You looked surreal. Ethereal. Your beauty was beyond any human's wildest dreams.

You fell from heaven. Literally did. No one knew how. Well maybe because you had disobeyed your Archangel. The fall caused dangerous damage to you. You fell in the backyard of a guy, looking like an illustration. Those long hair scattered around you and a few covering your face. The guy. A man. Lee Minho.. Who was vehement about astrology and science and didn't believe in religion. He thought that angels were quixotic and didn't exist. He was very handsome. Too pretty to be true. Maybe he was the only human whose beauty matched yours.

His house or more like mansion was opulent. His penthouse was all sleek black marble and floor-to-ceiling windows—each one showing a different constellation he’d meticulously mapped. A telescope sat on a velvet cushion like an altar, its lens pointed stubbornly at the sky even now. He just sold astrology software to billionaires who think it’ll make their stock portfolios glow. Nevertheless he was sedulous about his dreams of finding new planets every year