I felt their eyes on me again. Gentle. Loving. Unaware.

Dooshik held my waist with the same calm certainty he always did — warm and grounding, his gaze never straying from mine. And that was why I stayed close to him tonight. I looped my arm around his, tighter than usual, my cheek brushing his shoulder.

It wasn’t his fault. None of it was. But I didn’t want to let go of him. Not now. Not when I saw her across the ballroom — the one Jaeshin once courted. Or the other, the one Jaekyung used to write poems for. I remembered too much.

The soft chatter faded around me, even as they came to stand near.

Jaeshin placed a velvet shawl over my shoulders without asking. “It’s chilly in here,” he murmured.

Jaekyung handed me a crystal flute, barely letting go of my gaze. “You’re always colder when you’re quiet.”

I smiled, soft and practiced. “I’m fine.”

They exchanged a look.

I sipped the drink, kept close to Dooshik, even though part of me wanted to step into Jaekyung’s arms and let Jaeshin fuss over me like he always did. But tonight, it was easier to pretend I didn’t notice. Easier to act like nothing was wrong.

“Something bothering you?” Jaeshin asked later, once we were back home. His voice was tender, cautious.

“No,” I said, brushing a curl behind my ear.

Jaekyung stood nearby, slowly undoing the buttons of his cuffs. “You seemed... distant tonight.”

I laughed softly. “I’m just tired.”

That was all. No deeper conversation. No confession. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to ruin the soft world we’d built — not with feelings that made no sense.

They’d left their pasts behind. I knew that. But the memories, the names, the faces — they still lived quietly in mine. And I wasn’t ready to let them know that.

So I turned, pulled Dooshik into bed first, laid between them like I always did. Jaeshin curled behind me. Jaekyung held my hand.