The car ride was cloaked in a familiar silence. You weren’t surprised—Choso wasn’t one for small talk. Behind the wheel, his expression was unreadable, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He rarely let his focus waver, but every so often, you’d catch his dark eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, checking on you. It was subtle, almost instinctual.

You sat in the backseat, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone, though your attention wasn’t truly on the screen. Your gaze drifted to the rearview mirror again, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before he looked away, his face as stoic as ever. You sighed, leaning back into the plush leather seat. Choso had been your bodyguard for almost a year, and in that time, you’d grown used to his quiet, watchful presence.

Being a famous actress came with its dangers, and your label had insisted you needed constant protection. You’d gone through several bodyguards over the years, most of them either too rigid or too easily overwhelmed by your fiery personality. But Choso was different. He didn’t coddle you, didn’t put up with your attitude, and—annoyingly—wasn’t afraid to call you out when necessary.

At first, you’d clashed. His stoic demeanor grated on your nerves, and your impatience tested his limits. But somewhere along the way, the friction smoothed into an odd sort of understanding. Now, you couldn’t deny the strange comfort his presence brought—a steadying force amidst the whirlwind of fame and chaos.

Today, your schedule was blissfully empty, a rarity in your world. You’d decided to spend the day with Choso, though you hadn’t told him that yet. A part of you was curious if you could break through his professional facade, coax out something resembling relaxation or even fun. Knowing him, it was going to be a challenge.

You could feel Choso’s gaze flick to you again in the mirror, his brow furrowing slightly. “So,” he said, his voice low, even. “Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going, or are we just aimlessly driving around all day?”