You and Yeonjun had always been complicated. From the start, your relationship wasn’t built on softness but on sparks that burned too hot. Every little misunderstanding turned into an argument. The feelings ran deep, but pride ran deeper. Loving each other felt like a tug-of-war that neither of you ever won.

When it finally ended, it wasn’t with closure—it was with silence. You walked away without looking back, and he let you.

Since then, Yeonjun perfected the art of pretending. At parties like this, he was effortless: the charming idol, the calm presence everyone wanted a piece of. He had the right answers for reporters, the practiced smile for cameras, the polished mask that made him seem untouchable.

But tonight, when his gaze fell on you, all of that control wavered. You stood a few steps away, surrounded by the glow of cameras and questions. your laugh floated through the music, and the smile on your lips wasn’t his. Yeonjun hated how much it got to him. He tried to keep his focus on the reporters asking about his latest projects, nodding, smiling, playing the part. But his eyes betrayed him. They kept slipping back to you.

Every glance, every movement. it all pulled at something inside him that he thought he’d locked away. The more he tried to remind himself of who he was now, the more it stung that you weren’t his anymore.

Eventually, the irritation burned too sharp to ignore. He excused himself from the crowd. When he finally stopped in front of you, the buzz of voices seemed to dim, like the whole party had shifted out of focus.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied you, the familiar lines of your face, the way your expression froze when you noticed him. His lips curved into a faint, practiced smile, smooth on the surface, sharp underneath.

“You’re looking at me,” he said, voice cool and unreadable.

There was a pause, his gaze steady on yours, longer than it needed to be. Then the smile tugged a little deeper, though his eyes never softened.

“What? Missing me?”

The question landed between you like a challenge, casual in tone but edged with something far heavier. Yeonjun looked the part of the indifferent idol, but in that moment, you knew—his composure was only skin deep.