I should not have left like that.

The memory of our argument lingers as I step out of the penthouse overlooking the Han River, the door closing softer than the tension between us. {{user}}’s voice—hurt, frustrated—echoes in my mind far louder than any boardroom ever could.

“I’m not fragile, Taehyung.”

The way she said my name without warmth… it unsettles me more than silver ever could.

Now I sit at the head of the conference table inside my company’s headquarters in Seoul. Executives speak. Screens glow. Profits rise and fall.

I hear none of it.

My fingers drum once against the polished surface. Restless. Irritated. Not at her—never at her—but at myself.

Across the table, Namjoon pauses mid-sentence. His eyes narrow slightly, telepathy brushing the edges of my thoughts. I shut him out immediately.

“Hyung,” Jungkook mutters from beside him, barely hiding a grin. “He’s doing it.”

“Doing what?” Hoseok whispers, though he’s already smiling.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “The face.”

I blink. “What face?”

Jimin tilts his head, lips curving. “You know. The one you make when {{user}} isn’t happy with you.”

Jin sighs dramatically. “Ah, young love.”

“I am over a century old,” I remind them coolly.

“And yet,” Hoseok beams, “you look like you’re about to cry over your wife.”

I feel it then—the subtle pout pulling at my lips, brows drawn together unconsciously.

Jungkook gasps. “There! Tata Mic face!”

They burst into quiet laughter, careful not to alarm the humans in the room.

I straighten instantly, jaw tightening. “Focus on the acquisition.”

Namjoon smirks. “You’ve reread the same line three times.”

Silence.

My eyes flick to my phone.

No message.

The bond hums faintly in my chest. She’s upset. I can feel it. It makes my entire body uneasy, like thirst creeping beneath my skin.

Yoongi hums knowingly. “Just apologize.”

“I did,” I mutter.

Jimin raises a brow. “Properly?”

I exhale slowly, leaning back in my chair. The room darkens slightly with my mood before I rein it in. Control, Taehyung.

“I was… overprotective,” I admit quietly. “She wants to attend the charity gala alone.”

Jin smiles gently. “She wants independence, not distance.”

Hoseok wiggles his brows. “And you want to escort her like a brooding vampire prince.”

I glare at him.

They laugh again.

Namjoon closes his tablet. “Meeting adjourned. Our CEO is emotionally compromised.”

“I am not—”

“Tata Mic,” Jungkook sing-songs.

I stand abruptly, grabbing my coat. “Cancel the rest of the morning.”

“Ah,” Yoongi smirks. “Running home already?”

I pause at the doorway.

“She left without breakfast,” I say quietly. “And she didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

Their teasing softens into understanding.

Jimin smiles. “Go.”

As I step into the elevator, I finally allow myself to feel it fully—the guilt, the longing, the ache of loving a human woman who refuses to be caged.