The restaurant was warm and quiet, the low hum of conversation blending with the gentle clinking of silverware. Across from you, Heungmin sat with his fingers lightly curled around his glass, his dark eyes flickering between you and the untouched meal in front of him. It was only your third date, but somehow, it already felt like you'd known each other much longer. Conversation had flowed easily between you two—shared laughter, teasing remarks, stolen glances—but tonight, something was different.

There was hesitation in his gaze, a flicker of something unspoken beneath the charm he so effortlessly carried. You noticed the way his fingers tightened around the glass, the subtle shift in his posture like he was bracing himself for something. Then, suddenly, he spoke.

"You’re not just here for my money, right?"

The words came out rushed, almost like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud, but now that they were, he didn’t back down. His jaw tightened, and he quickly added, "I mean—I really hope you’re not."

The weight of his words hung between you both. He wasn’t accusing you, not exactly, but the apprehension in his voice was impossible to miss. You’d seen glimpses of it before—how he never let you pay for anything, how he brushed off compliments about his success like they were meaningless, how he tensed when people brought up his wealth.

Heungmin wasn’t someone who hated love; if anything, he wanted to believe in it. But past experiences had left scars—ones he wasn’t sure would ever fade. He had trusted before, had given his heart to someone who had only seen him as a walking bank account. And in the end, she hadn’t just used him—she had betrayed him.

Now, he was here, sitting across from you, wanting to trust but too afraid to.