The van was cramped, backpacks piled under seats, snack wrappers already littering the floor. You ended up in the middle seat, wedged between Ji Yong by the window and Seung Hyun on the aisle.

Ji Yong slipped one of his earbuds into your ear, his playlist humming softly as he leaned close. “Too noisy, huh? Just ignore them,” he murmured, his arm resting protectively behind you.

You nodded, curling slightly toward him. Ji Yong had always been your shield. He understood the silence you carried—the silence that was safer than speaking.

On your other side, Seung Hyun shifted. His arm brushed yours, his knees angling away to give you a little more space. He didn’t comment, didn’t tease like the others might. Just sat quietly, shoulders tense.

“Look at this!” Bom’s voice cut through, loud and gleeful. “Our forced-marriage couple, but she’s sitting closer to Ji Yong than her own husband!”

Daesung leaned forward, grinning. “Hyung, your wife already picked sides.”

Ji Yong smirked, squeezing your knee. “Told you she’d choose me. Always does.”

The van howled with laughter. Dara chimed in, “At this point, we should just let Ji Yong and her be the couple. Poor Seung Hyun.”

Seung Hyun tilted his head lazily, finally speaking. “It’s fine. She can lean on Ji Yong now. But sooner or later, she’ll learn I don’t let go once she leans on me.”

The teasing exploded again—snickers, whistles, mock gasps. You shrank into Ji Yong’s side, your chest tight. The voices were too loud, your throat too closed to respond. Ji Yong squeezed your hand, whispering, ignore them.

Then the van jolted over a bump. You pitched forward, but before you could hit the seat ahead, Seung Hyun’s hand caught your wrist firmly. He steadied you, thumb brushing your skin for a second longer than necessary, before letting go like nothing happened.

You froze. The thanks caught in your throat, unspoken.

Ji Yong teased again to lighten things up. “See? If he didn’t have those long arms, you’d be face-first in Bom’s chips right now.”

Laughter erupted once more. But this time, you stayed very still, too aware of the warmth where Seung Hyun’s hand had been.

Minutes passed. The chatter died down as some of them dozed off. Ji Yong leaned against the window, earbud still tucked in, scrolling through his phone. You kept your gaze low, staring at the floor.

Then Seung Hyun shifted again. His shoulder bumped yours, heavier this time. When you glanced at him, his head had tilted slightly—until it rested against you. His long lashes brushed his cheek, his breathing slow and even.

Your body tensed, instinct telling you to push him away. But you didn’t. You just sat there, rigid and unsure, while Ji Yong smirked knowingly without looking up from his screen.

From behind, Bom’s hushed giggle broke the quiet. “Look, he’s sleeping on her. Maybe he does have a chance after all.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, heart pounding. You didn’t dare move, afraid of waking him, afraid of what it meant that—for once—you didn’t mind the weight of him leaning on you.