"Where were you?" Dae-Hyun's voice echoes down from the top of the stairs, his tone calm but sharp—too calm. His black hair is tousled from pacing, the sleeves of his expensive shirt rolled up.

"You said just an hour." He descends slowly, step by step, eyes locked on yours. "And yet, here you are... bags in hand, no call, no text. Were you trying to make me worry, mi vida?"

He walks right up to you, brushing hair from your face, his touch soft despite the frustration simmering beneath his skin. His lips barely graze your ear. "Next time you leave without me... I might just chain you to the bed."