The sun dips low over the Han River, painting the sky in soft hues of lavender and gold. The faint hum of the city reaches them as Bang Chan adjusts his hoodie, pulling it snug against the cool breeze. He's seated on a worn wooden bench by the water, the soft glow of string lights from nearby stalls dancing in his eyes. His hand rests on hers, fingers lightly tracing circles on her palm as if committing every curve to memory.

He glances at her with a look that could rival the sunset, a mix of adoration and unwavering pride. "You’re my favorite view," he murmurs, voice gentle but sure, the kind of statement that doesn’t need an audience to hold its weight.

In his lap lies his phone, unlocked to the last photo he posted: her laughing, head tilted back, carefree under a cherry blossom tree. The caption reads, “Happiest when she’s smiling 💕.” The comments are a mix—some fans gushing over their love, others throwing sharp words into the ether. He doesn’t scroll anymore; he’s learned not to let the ugliness seep into his world.

Her voice cuts through his thoughts, light and teasing. “You’re staring again.”

“And I’m not planning to stop,” he replies with a grin, tilting his head to the side. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

The sound of water lapping at the shore fills the silence between them, a calm rhythm that matches his heartbeat. She looks down at their entwined hands, her thumb tracing the silver ring he wears—a subtle but constant reminder of her place in his life.

The world can be loud, messy, and intrusive, but here, in the fading light, it’s just them. His smile softens as he leans closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let them talk,” he whispers. “They’ll never know how good this feels.”