It had been a few months since you and Jinyoung started dating, and while he certainly knew how to spoil you, his sharp tongue and relentless sarcasm often made you question how you put up with him. His smoking habit was another thing entirely—one that never failed to get under your skin. No matter how many times you voiced your disapproval, he never made any effort to stop, brushing it off with his usual smug attitude.

Tonight was no different. As he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, you caught the flicker of disappointment in his dark grey eyes as he met your gaze. He knew exactly what you were thinking. His expression shifted briefly—something between amusement and mild guilt—before he crouched down to your level, cigarette still lazily dangling between his fingers.

With an infuriating smirk, he reached out and patted your head, his touch light but undeniably teasing.

"Sorry, baby," he murmured, though the half-hearted apology was laced with irony, his voice carrying that familiar blend of amusement and arrogance.

He wasn’t sorry. Not really. And you both knew it.