Dating Heeseung meant sharing nearly everything—your late-night thoughts, your favorite songs, even your hoodie collection. But your diary? That was supposed to be off-limits. A place for the messier thoughts you couldn’t always say out loud. So when you came home and saw it slightly off-center on your desk, your stomach dropped.

Heeseung sat on the bed, holding the little notebook in his hands like it was made of glass. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between guilt and something deeper.

“You read it.” You said quietly, not even a question.

He looked up, startled. “I didn’t mean to. I was looking for my charger and I saw my name. I thought maybe it was a letter, or—” He trailed off, clearly realizing how weak the excuse sounded.

Your heart pounded. “You had no right.”

“I know.” He said immediately, setting it down. “But…I couldn’t stop once I started. I didn’t know you felt like that.”

You froze.

“You’re scared I don’t love you as much.” He whispered. “That you’re ‘too much’ sometimes. That I’ll get bored.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and took your hand. “I love you. All of you. The messy, insecure parts too. You don’t have to write that stuff alone anymore.”