He found you in the silence between notes. In the sound of your laughter in the music room, the way your eyes brightened when you hit a flawless run on the piano, and the quiet confidence that made him want to be soft—only for you.

He liked you.

And you liked him too.

But love stories don’t always begin at the right time. Or in the right hands.

Seungmin’s parents didn’t dislike you. They just... didn’t think of you at all. To them, you were background—a kind smile, a good influence, a sweet hobbyist friend their son admired. Nothing threatening. Nothing worth investigating.

After all, your surname didn’t ring any bells. Not like the Park girl. She came in glossy and rehearsed—red lips and fake empathy, all designer smiles and subtle lies. Her parents had approached the Kims like businesspeople, not matchmakers. A union, they said, that would benefit both families. Seungmin’s parents didn’t question it. Why would they?

The Park fortune was visible. Yours was invisible—and far greater, The Hwang family.

But you never flaunted it. You were raised behind gold gates, yes, but you preferred music sheets over menus, laughter over labels, sincerity over status. So they overlooked you.

And Seungmin… he didn’t know how to fight them. He told you everything in pieces, his voice a hush under the piano's lid one night after class.

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

“Then tell them,” you whispered.

“It’s not that simple. They won’t listen. They think I’m just… being young. That it’ll pass.”

You looked away, your throat hot with unshed anger. Or maybe grief. --------------------------------------------‐-----‐----------- You were in your expensive car, going somewhere else.

That’s when your phone buzzed. A message from Hyunjin. he sent a photo.

Seungmin. At dinner. With the Park heiress. Her hand on his arm. His face stiff, but composed. It was a private event. Only people with names got invited. People like them. Your family got invited but they didn't wanna go.