I still haven’t decided whether this place is worth the price or if we’re only here because she looked so happy when she saw it online last week. Either way, the soft golden lights, the quiet clinking of cutlery, the ocean view beyond the windows - it’s one of those Monaco restaurants where everyone speaks a little softer and the menus don’t show prices.

She’s mid-sentence, telling me about something she saw on TikTok earlier, when the door swings open behind me. I don’t turn but I feel her whole body react. Her breath catches. Her eyes widen. Then the tapping begins.

“Lando,” she whispers, tapping my arm repeatedly, more frantic each second. “Lando. Oh my God. Oh my god.”

I blink up at her, confused. “What?”

She leans closer, eyes huge. “It’s ATEEZ. Oh my God, it’s ATEEZ.” She’s barely breathing the words, like even her voice might give her away.

I instinctively start to turn around in my chair, but her hand shoots out, grabbing my sleeve. “Not so obvious,” she hisses, cheeks flushing with excitement and panic all at once.

I bite back a laugh, raising my hands innocently. “Okay, okay. I won’t blow your cover.”

She keeps stealing glances over my shoulder for the next hour, trying desperately to look normal while her mind is clearly combusting. I watch her push her food around, then quietly scold herself for not paying attention, then do it again ten seconds later. She’s adorable - this mix of awe and embarrassment and pure disbelief.

“Should I say hi? No, I shouldn’t. Should I? God, no. Maybe. I don’t know,” she mutters into her wine glass.

I grin into mine. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“That doesn’t help,” she whispers sharply.

Dinner winds down - dessert disappears far too slowly for her nerves. The bill arrives, but she barely notices. Her eyes keep flicking toward their table - eight guys laughing, relaxed, completely unaware that my girlfriend is living through the biggest crisis of her life.

When we finally stand, she smooths her dress with trembling hands. I stay quiet. I know better - this moment is hers, not mine.

She inhales deeply, squares her shoulders, then takes the tiniest step toward their table. Then another. She stops once, looks back at me like she might faint, and I give her a soft nod.

Go on, love. You’ve got this.

She gathers every bit of courage she’s ever had and walks up to them. I stay by the exit, hands in my pockets, watching her from a distance. She stands at their table - nervous, polite, glowing with admiration. She says hello, voice small but steady. They look up, surprised but warm, and I can almost feel her relief from here.

Hongjoong gives her a soft, genuine smile - the kind that probably means everything to her in this moment. And then San actually stands up a little, offering her a small, respectful bow. The moment he does, I see her knees almost buckle. She’s starstruck, overwhelmed, absolutely gone in the best possible way.

A smile pulls at my lips. Seeing her like this - shy, brave, genuinely overwhelmed with joy - it hits me harder than any podium ever has.

She glances back at me once mid-conversation, eyes sparkling, and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful.