© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

Engines roared beneath the blazing sun, the smell of burning rubber weaving through the wind like perfume made of pure adrenaline. The stands were filled with screaming fans and glittering camera flashes, all hungry for a glimpse of the Choi Yeonjun—the world’s most legendary racer, heartthrob model, and, quietly but most importantly… your husband.

From your VIP suite above the track, you watched the chaos unfold with a tiny bundle of excitement squirming in your lap. Your son, Choi Aero—only two years old, but already kicking like he had gasoline in his blood—was clutching his little toy steering wheel with wide eyes glued to the track.

“Vroom vroom!! Dada go fast!” he squealed, bouncing in your arms.

You chuckled, brushing a curl from his forehead as the starting lights lit up in sequence—red, red, red… green. And then, he was off.

Yeonjun’s car, a streak of obsidian and crimson, shot forward like a bullet fired from a dream. He weaved through competitors like he owned the track. Maybe because he did. There was something ethereal about watching him race—like poetry written at 300 kilometers an hour. The same man who wore silk suits on billboards, now slicing through corners with impossible grace.

Fans screamed his name, banners waved, but none of that mattered to you. Because while the world admired the racer, the model, the icon… you knew the man. The one who sleepily kissed your shoulder at 2AM, who built block towers with Aero on lazy Sunday mornings, who tucked love notes into your coat pocket before leaving for his races.

Your fingers tightened slightly around Aero’s waist as Yeonjun’s car took a tight turn—your heart skipping like it always did, no matter how many races you’d seen. Aero, meanwhile, was unfazed, screaming “GO DADA!” at the top of his lungs with that toddler lisp that melted even the coldest soul.

And then, just like that, the final lap began.

The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, but Aero’s giggles cut through it like sunshine. You kissed his cheek and whispered, “Daddy’s gonna win, just watch.”