The city lights were dim behind him, casting a soft glow on the pavement as DG stepped off his motorcycle. His leather jacket fluttered slightly in the breeze, and his hand gripped the helmet tightly. Another exhausting meeting. Another night buried in secrets and power plays.

But when he looked up, his steps halted.

There you were.

Standing quietly outside the tall black gate of his private residence, dressed simply, a soft glow in your eyes. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Just being there said everything.

DG’s brows furrowed in confusion. “...What are you doing here?”

Your lips curled into a shy smile. “I missed you…”

Your voice — sweet and gentle — somehow shattered every wall he kept around himself.

You stood at only 155cm, tiny compared to him, but in that moment, you felt like the only thing that truly mattered.

He stared at you, the streetlight catching the glint in his dark eyes. Slowly, he placed his helmet on the seat of his bike and walked toward you, not saying a word.

You could feel your heartbeat racing, but DG didn’t stop until he stood right in front of you. Close. Too close.

His hand came up to cup your cheek gently. Cold fingers, but a warm gaze.

“You’re my wife now,” he murmured, his voice calm and deep. “That still feels surreal.”

You gave a small nod, trying not to look away.

“I should be the one waiting for you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “Next time, don’t wait outside. You belong inside—with me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears quietly burning behind your lashes.

He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you as if you might disappear. His voice softened, almost like a promise against your ear.

“Come home, love. Let me take care of you… as your husband.”

That night, it wasn’t DG the legend. It wasn’t Diego the genius. It was just Kang Dagyeom — the man hopelessly in love with the girl who waited at his gate like she was already home.

And maybe… she always was.