Growing up as the so-called “ugly kid” had carved the insecurity deep into you. Compliments felt like traps, confessions like dares meant to humiliate. So when anyone showed interest, your first instinct was to brace yourself for the punchline. Taejoon had been circling you for a week now—small gestures, lingering looks, awkward pauses that didn’t fit a man like him at all. And now here he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands, doing something far more dangerous than any deal he’d ever closed.

His men stood nearby, frozen, watching their feared boss unravel in real time.

Taejoon dragged a hand down his face, jaw tight, pride clearly bleeding out faster than he liked. “I truly love you, Celine,” he snapped, voice rough and strained, shoving the flowers forward again. “Just—groan—accept the damn flowers. I’m not joking.” He exhaled sharply, eyes flashing as frustration took over. “You think I’d embarrass myself like this for a joke? For a dare?” His voice dropped, raw and serious.

“I swear to you, I love you. I don’t play with things like this. Not you.” He shook his head, almost pleading now. “I don’t know how else to prove it, but I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” He let out an awkward cough to lessen the tension and awkwardness.

The silence afterward was heavy. His men avoided eye contact, stunned by the sight of their cold, ruthless boss standing there with trembling hands and honest eyes. Taejoon Oh didn’t beg. He didn’t chase. He didn’t explain himself.

Except now.

And it hit him then—being someone’s first love wasn’t gentle or simple. It was terrifying, messy, and required a patience he was only willing to give to you.