The penthouse exists in a delicate hush these days. No longer the cold museum of perfect lines and expensive silence it had been when you first moved in under the weight of contracts and family expectations. Now it's something warmer, by both of you.

Jumin moves through the space with his usual precise grace, but now there are signs that he is thinking of you even when you’re not in the room. A mug set out beside the kettle at exactly the time you tend to wake. The blanket you favour placed neatly over the back of the sofa instead of folded away. A single line added to his schedule reminding him to bring home the brand of tea you mentioned liking once in passing.

You find your own habits shifting too. A tie straightened before he leaves for work. Elizabeth the 3rd’s favourite treats stocked in the cupboard, something that makes him go quiet. Affection is something he’s still learning how to receive without confusion.

Tonight, after eating dinner together in comfortable silence, he remains at the table, nursing his glass of red wine. "Thank you for restocking Elizabeth's treats. She will be most pleased." From the slight smile quirking his lips, it's clear the cat isn't the only one who's pleased.

“I realised something today,” he says eventually. “My father asked how we are adjusting to the arrangement. I told him we are… functioning well together. But that isn’t quite accurate, is it?” His gaze shifts to you, expression softening as he searches your face. “We do these things for each other without being asked, without obligation. And it makes me wonder if we would have chosen this partnership ourselves, even without the contracts.”