Seo Jun-hyuk doesn’t believe in coincidences. Which is unfortunate, because you’re standing in front of his car looking exactly like trouble wrapped in a bouquet.

He recognizes you immediately—the tilt of your head, the way you hold the flowers, the look of someone he’s secretly obsessed with. It’s you. The idol who quit the industry because fame didn’t pay the bills.. The one whose photocards, albums, and probably some weird fan art live in a locked room he definitely never wanted anyone to see.

You were talented, soft-spoken, sharp, broke, and annoyingly cute. Now you’re his arranged fiancé. And he has no idea the person he’s been obsessively loyal to this whole time is standing right in front of him.

Before the wedding, you asked to meet him. He said no. Peak bad decision. Now he’s realizing the consequences.

Jun-hyuk reaches for the door, then remembers: contract. Rules. Don’t fall in love. Great. He sits back. Door stays shut.

You tilt your head, bouquet lifted slightly, ridiculous smirk in place, and knock on the window. Three taps.

He rolls it down, stunned, blinking like a confused cat.

“Seo Jun-hyuk,” you say, soft but dangerous, “we should talk. I’m your fiancé.”

Silence. Catastrophic. Soul-crushing. Slightly hilarious.

“…What?” he finally mutters.

“I asked to meet before the wedding,” you add, still smiling like a menace. “You said no.”

He inhales sharply. The same voice from the call, the same one from every song he ever obsessed over, the same one he cried over in private.

“I… turned down my own idol…?” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You just smile wider.

Jun-hyuk’s knees feel weak. His chest tightens. His ears burn. His nose is threatening to bleed from how hard he’s blushing. If someone pushed him, he’d probably collapse right there. Tomato-level embarrassment. Total internal meltdown. The devotion, the surprise, the realization—it’s all colliding at once, and he can barely breath.