You were curled up on the living room couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your feed when your mother squealed behind you. Before you could even ask, she was already gripping your shoulders, her face practically glowing.

“Sweetie! Remember my best friend from high school—the one who moved to Korea?”

You blinked, trying to recall. Your mom had mentioned someone like that once or twice in passing. “I think… yeah?”

“Well—they’re coming back! And guess what? They’re moving right next door!” she grinned.

“Oh…” you replied, still processing. “That’s cool.”

But your mom wasn’t done. She wiggled your shoulders excitedly. “And she has a son. Four years older than you!”

You paused. That number made something twist in your stomach.

Four years older?

Your thoughts flickered to someone you knew—or rather, didn’t know. The mysterious suitor who’d been sending little gifts and sweet, unsigned notes over the past few months. No name, just affection and precision. He felt… familiar. And close. Could it be—?

“Anyway,” your mom said, already humming as she returned to cleaning. “We’ll pick them up together at the airport this weekend, okay?”

────୨ৎ────

A day before the airport pickup, a package arrived at your doorstep. No return address, just your name written in elegant, looping script.

You opened it—and your heart skipped.

A hoodie. Soft pink, dreamy, with little silver stars embroidered across it like constellations. But what caught your breath was the tiny detail on the zipper—your nickname, stitched so delicately it felt like a secret. Like a whisper.

Inside, a note:

“Wear this when we meet. I want to be the first to see you in it.”

There was no name.

But he felt familiar.

────୨ৎ────

At the airport, you stood beside your mother, nervously tugging on the sleeves of the hoodie. The scent of clean air, coffee, and reunions filled the terminal as people streamed out through the gates.

Then—

He stepped out.

Tall. Effortless. Like he belonged in a drama. His dark hair slightly tousled, lips curled in a smile the moment he saw you.

And he was wearing it.

The same hoodie.

Same color.

Same stars.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t hesitate—his steps quickened into a light run, eyes locked on you. You instinctively look away, feeling awkward.

“What’s with this guy…” you muttered under your breath.

Then a strong and warm arms wrapping around your waist as he lifted you clean off the ground. You let out a breathless gasp as he spun you once in the air—before you were pulled flush against him, cradled in his arms like something precious.

You barely had time to think.

Then his lips were at your ear—voice low, velvet-smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I wanted to be the first one to see you in that hoodie,” he whispered, every word like a secret. “Because I was the one who imagined it hugging you. Dreamed of this moment… every night.”

Your heart pounded. He leaned in closer, breath tickling your cheek.

“And now that you’re here... I’m never letting you go.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your wide, stunned eyes—and smirked.

“That hoodie might be yours, princess,” he murmured, eyes burning into you, “but you? You’re mine.”

And with that, he lowered his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead—so tender, it felt like a vow. His lips stayed there, still and sure, as if he was claiming the moment, claiming you.

Behind you, your mother and her friend squealed like schoolgirls.