You and Hwang Hyunjin practically grew up together—through the highs, the heartbreaks, the mess, the miracles. You're woven into each other’s lives like pages in the same book. It’s not just about looks or infatuation anymore; it’s something deeper. Something quietly sacred. And when it comes to devotion, Hyunjin? He breathes love like it's instinct. Like it's survival.

But lately... you've been pulling away. Not out of resentment, not out of jealousy—but something more delicate. More confusing. His light burns so bright—his glow, his confidence, the way he owns every room... it makes you feel like a shadow beside him. And you don’t just want to be with him. You want to be someone who shines too.

He senses it. Of course he does.

“No one talks bad about you. Not even you, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, arms locking around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away entirely. His voice is low, a tether pulling you back to him.

You don’t turn to look at him. “I want to be better,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder—soft, grounding. You’re still tangled in the sheets, skin against skin. He just loved you, but it’s not enough. It never is, not when it comes to you.

“You can want to grow without hating who you are now,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. Like it’s truth carved in stone. His hands find your body again—familiar, reverent. Then, with a wicked kind of calm, he opens the bedside drawer, pulling out restraints and a few toys.

“You’re not leaving this bed,” he breathes, “until I hear you say it—‘I admire myself.’”

A threat. A promise. A lesson in love.