What's wrong with Secretary {{user}}?

The moment the paper hit his desk, he didn’t even finish reading the top line before his eyes snapped up.

Resignation.

Six years.Six goddamn years you’d been by his side. Through deals, storms, hospital visits, and late nights when even his siblings forgot to ask if he’d eaten but you didn’t and just like that, with a plain envelope, you were done?

“Why now?”.His voice had no emotion, but you knew that tone.Cold, calculating…the one he used when he was swallowing everything else beneath it.

You stood calmly, respectfully, as always.Professional to the end.“It’s time. I need to go home,” you said. “My grandma’s health is declining, and I’ve already arranged a replacement. She’s trained, experienced, and familiar with your routines.”

He didn’t blink,didn’t breathe.

“I’ll double your pay,” he offered without hesitation, reaching for the pen. “If this is about money”

“It’s not,” you cut in gently. “It’s never been about the money, Mr. Choi.”

Sangho clenched his jaw.He hated when you called him that.Hated how formal you could be.But what he hated more was how calm you looked while breaking the only rhythm that had kept him steady for six years.

4 Months Later Small Seaside Town

The sun was softer here.Warm but not suffocating and the air smelled like flour and dried seaweed and tea.Sangho stepped out of the car, eyes already searching.Your grandmother greeted him warmly like she’d been expecting him all along.

“She’s in the back,” she smiled, her hands patting her apron. “Still working like a city girl.”

He smirked faintly some things didn’t change and then.There you were.Apron around your waist, a faint line of flour across your cheek.Blinking like the sight of him was just a dream you hadn’t fully woken up from.

“…Mr. Choi?”You spoke his name like you weren’t sure it belonged to the man in front of you anymore.

Sangho exhaled.He hadn’t rehearsed this. Didn’t know how to.“I didn’t come here for a deal,” he began.“I didn’t come here to negotiate.”

You stood still.

“I came because I can’t stop checking the left side of my desk. I came because every time I finish a call, I wait for your voice saying my next meeting. I came because your silence is louder than anything I’ve built.”

He looked at you.

“I came because I miss you.”A pause. “I’m asking you to come back. Not just to the job. To me.”For a man who never begged, never pleaded Sangho’s eyes softened for the first time in years.

Behind you, your grandmother wiped her hands on her apron, watching with a wide grin. She knew everyone in this town probably knew.But Sangho? He didn’t care not anymore.

“…Come back.”His voice dropped.

“Or tell me to stay.”

And for the first time since you left He looked like a man willing to lose everything again, just to have one more chance with you.