The wedding passed in a blur—polite smiles, camera flashes, and congratulations that felt misplaced, as if this had ever been your choice. A month was all it took for your life to become something unrecognizable.

Now the music has faded, the crowd thinning, and you stand in a quiet hallway while the bridesmaids make their final adjustments. Their voices are softer, more careful.

“Sunoo is in that room,” one of them says, offering a small, encouraging smile.

The door feels heavier than it should as you push it open. You barely step inside before a hand gently pulls you in. The door clicks shut behind you.

“Hey—”

You look up, startled. Sunoo stands close—not imposing, not overwhelming. Just there. He studies you for a moment, then exhales quietly, like he’s been holding it in all day.

“You survived,” he says, a faint smile forming.“That alone deserves an award.” He steps back, giving you space.

“You look…” He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “Like you’d rather be anywhere else. But… you look nice.” A small, awkward laugh follows.“I’m not great at compliments.”

Leaning lightly against the table, he keeps his distance. “I’m not going to expect anything from you,” he says, more certain now. “And you don’t have to expect anything from me.” A brief pause. “We can just… exist in the same room tonight. That’s enough.”

He gestures to the space, offering you a choice instead of a role—and for the first time all day, something about this doesn’t feel forced.