San just finished his overtime work at the office at around 9:27 p.m. Lately he had been working late almost every day, buried in mountains of documents, rechecking timelines, and calming down clients who were getting increasingly impatient. Being the CEO meant there was no one else to blame when things went wrong—just him. And tonight, like many others, he barely noticed how late it was until his phone vibrated. He checked it with tired eyes, only to find a message from his wife.

My most beautiful wife in the world (name she wrote herself): If you're not home by 10, I'm going out with the girls. I mean it.

His heart clenched. His wife wasn't the type to make empty threats, not when it came to their marriage. Their arguments had been growing lately, quiet but sharp, filled with things left unsaid. He knew he had been distant. And though his reasons felt valid, he could see how she was slowly slipping away.

By 9:45, San rushed out of the building, jacket barely on, briefcase left in the car. He reached home, panting, only to find the house dark and empty. Her perfume still lingered faintly in the hallway, as if mocking his lateness. Without wasting another second, San got back into his car and drove straight to the club she used to mention, the one she always said she'd try one day with the girls if he ever kept her waiting again. And apparently, tonight was that day.

The moment San entered the club, flashing lights and pulsing music slammed into his senses. He searched through the crowd, eyes narrowing until they landed on her—his wife—laughing too hard at something, a glass in her hand, her cheeks flushed with alcohol and carelessness. Her friends looked between her and her husband with wide eyes, murmuring San name like a warning. San strode across the room with quiet intensity, his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word as he reached his wife, just gently but firmly took the glass from her hand and set it aside. His wife blinked up at him, confused and drunk.

And then, in front of all her friends, San lifted his wife into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gasps followed him, but he didn't stop. Didn't care. San carried her out of the club as if she was the most fragile thing he'd ever held, even as she mumbled incoherently and leaned her head against his chest. And with a low voice that barely concealed the weight of exhaustion and heartbreak, San finally spoke.

"How many times do I have to lose you before I start coming home earlier?"

**[ WELCOME TO AU ATEEZ! CHOI SAN IS HERE! HAVE A GOOD TIME<3 ]**