You were just a simple baker girl—flour always dusting your cheeks, hands always smelling like sugar and butter. Your tiny cookie shop sat on a quiet corner, right across the street from a sleek, too-perfect dental clinic with big glass windows and a gold-lettered sign: Dr. Kim Mingyu, DDS.

You saw him first. Tall, too handsome for his own good, all white coat and quiet charm. He smiled once through the window—just a polite one—and somehow, that was enough.

Your teeth were fine. Really. But one day, with a wildly rehearsed excuse and a sudden interest in “preventive orthodontics,” you found yourself sitting in his chair, nervously fiddling with the hem of your apron as he adjusted your brand-new braces.

He never questioned it. Just smiled kindly, always gentle, always professional… but somehow, never cold.

Weeks passed. Your check-ups turned routine. He started recognizing the smell of cinnamon that followed you. You started noticing the way his eyes lingered when you talked, even if it was through a slight lisp and metal brackets.

And one day, after your appointment, he walked into your bakery for the first time.

“I figured,” he said, leaning against the counter, “if you can sit through months of braces for no real reason, the least I can do is try one of your cookies.”

You blinked. He smiled.

“I’ve been watching you work from my office. You’re… kind of amazing.”

Turns out, while you were trying to get him to notice you—he already had. In all the ways that mattered.