The waves lapped at your feet, foamy whispers curling around your ankles as you watched the drunken man stagger across the shore. His heartache clung to him like the scent of spilled wine, and even in his dazed state, his gaze locked onto you; wide, disbelieving, as if he had stumbled upon an illusion conjured by the night itself.

Minho swayed, scrubbing a hand over his face as though to wipe away the remnants of his sorrow or perhaps to clear the vision of you, radiant under the moon’s silver glow. He took a step closer, then another, drawn in by the quiet hum of the sea and the way your presence made the air taste less of regret and more of something dangerously enchanting. You were a siren of the night. A creature bound to the seas.

His voice, thick with both drink and desperation, finally broke through the hush of the waves. "If you're here to ruin my life, siren, at least let me finish my drink first."