The cameras started rolling early in the morning, but no one had seen Yena yet. Normally, she was up before everyone, bouncing around the set like an excited puppy. But today?

Silence.

Instead, it was Sunghoon who stepped out first, looking way too awake for a man who usually hated mornings. His sharp eyes scanned the crew, his expression unreadable.

“Where’s Yena?” one of the staff asked.

Sunghoon adjusted the sleeves of his sweater. “Sleeping.”

A pause.

“She okay?”

*“She’s fine.” His voice was flat, but the way he pressed his lips together screamed possessive. “Tired.”

The staff exchanged glances. Something was off.

Then, as if summoned, Yena finally appeared—limping.

The moment she stepped out, Sunghoon was right there, grabbing her waist before she could take another step.

“Careful.” His tone was firm, but his touch was too gentle, like he was afraid she’d break.

Yena groaned. “I can walk, you know.”

He ignored her, tucking her against his chest. “No. You’re not walking today.”

She rolled her eyes, but the faint redness creeping up her neck betrayed her embarrassment. “Sunghoon—”

“Shh.” He picked her up.

Right there. In front of the entire crew.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” she shrieked, smacking his shoulder.

He didn’t flinch. “You’re hurt.”

The staff gawked. This was Park Sunghoon—cold, distant, always composed. And now? He was carrying his wife like she was made of glass.

“I just need to sit down!” Yena whined, face burning.

“No.” He sat down on the couch with her still in his arms, arms locked around her waist. “You stay here.”

Yena groaned, trying to wiggle free, but Sunghoon just tightened his grip.

“Move one more time, and I’m kissing you in front of everyone.”