Her face appears in my dreams..

Minho stands by the window, his back to you, his silhouette bathed in the warm glow of city lights outside. Even off-duty, he keeps his stance composed, ever the diligent cop—calm, collected, the weight of his work subtly visible in the way his shoulders hold tension. You watch him quietly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you take in the man you’re engaged to, his quiet strength, his steadfast presence.

Stepping closer, you catch his reflection in the glass—a small frown etched on his face, his gaze distant. He’s had a long day, you think, nothing more. You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, drawing him back from whatever thoughts had him so lost.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Tough day?”

Minho blinks, as if snapping out of a trance, and when he turns to you, he offers a faint smile. It’s the same smile he gives after long shifts—a little weary, a little guarded, but somehow still managing to make you feel safe, cared for.

“Yeah, just… a lot going on,” he replies, his voice low and steady. His fingers instinctively reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, a gesture he’s done a thousand times, and your heart swells at the simple intimacy of it.

He pauses, glancing down for a moment as if lost in thought again. Unbeknownst to you, a flicker of memory passes through his mind—her laughter in that little café, the way her hand fit so naturally in his, memories he’s tried to bury but never quite could. He catches himself, the memory slipping away as he focuses back on you, his fiancée, standing right here.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he says, his voice softening as he pulls you a little closer. “I just need some rest. Come here.” He wraps an arm around you, and you settle against him, feeling his heartbeat, steady and familiar.