“maybe we’ll get married one day… but who knows?”

You and Heeseung were the definition of a healthy relationship—steady, warm, and so effortlessly natural that even your strict parents softened around him. He let you do whatever you needed, even when it meant turning into your personal practice dummy for med-tech procedures.

He always said he didn’t mind. And he meant it.

baby 💕 Heeseung: “baby, I’ll pick you up. what time does your class end?” You: “you sure? not tired yet?” Heeseung: “can still manage, baby.”

It was your usual. Your comfort. People always pointed out how you two never fought—not because you were perfect, but because you actually talked things out.

Tonight, Heeseung is sitting on the floor of your bedroom, back resting against your bed, your legs draped over his lap as you both talk about university life. Your parents gave their approval hours ago; they trust him more than they trust most people.

You’re rambling about your day, laughing at how chaotic your lab partner is, when the words slip out of your mouth without thought.

“Maybe we’ll get married one day,” you say casually as you scroll through your notes, “but who knows? Maybe I’ll just end up being your doctor in the future.”

The room goes quiet.

Heeseung’s head snaps up slightly. His smile falters—not disappearing, just bending at the edges. And he frowns, softly. The kind of frown that isn’t anger… but something else.

Something like: Why would you say that?

He nudges your knee with his thumb, eyes still on your face.

“Baby,” he says quietly, almost pouting, “why does that sound like you don’t see us getting married?”

His voice is half teasing, half serious—just enough softness to let you know it matters to him.

Heeseung never frowns at you. But this? This touched something he tries so hard not to say out loud