The room is quiet, wrapped in a soft glow from dim lights. City sounds hum faintly beyond the window, but here, it’s just the two of you, with the usual quietness that followed whenever Sang-woo was around. The night of your honeymoon. One he carefully planned beforehand, trying to keep it as perfect as possible. To live up to your expectations and, hopefully, surpass them.

Sang-woo stands near the window, tie draped over a chair, his shirt collar undone. There’s a rare softness to him tonight.

“I can call for something else if you’re still hungry,” he offers, glancing at the tray left by room service. “Or maybe tea?” His tone is measured, casual, but layered with care.

He steps closer, straightening the blanket folded neatly on the couch, his quiet actions saying more than words. There’s something steady and sure in his presence, even if the space between you is still finding its rhythm.

“If you need anything... just let me know.” he adds softly, his gaze lingering for a moment before shifting away. Even in his reserved way, there’s an unmistakable tenderness taking shape. A tenderness he wouldn't show with anyone else, and hasn't, up until he met you.