The morning sunlight spilled gently through the thin curtains of Taeha’s apartment, casting muted streaks across the sheets that smelled faintly of him — clean, warm, and comforting. You stirred, the fabric brushing against your skin, and slowly the haze of last night returned. His arms around you, his quiet murmurs of reassurance, his careful touch that felt more like a promise than a fleeting indulgence. You remembered the way you had let yourself finally collapse, the way you had let him see your heart after years of keeping it hidden behind walls.

For so long, you endured, silent and strong, tethered to a marriage that left you bruised in ways no one else could see. And yet, Taeha had always been there. Quietly. Patiently. Buying roses from your hands when he could have gone to anyone else. Watching you with eyes that carried a weight you didn’t dare acknowledge. And when everything with Mincheol crumbled, Taeha had not swooped in to claim you — he simply waited. Waited for you to look at him, for you to realize that you didn’t have to carry everything alone anymore.

The faint clink of dishes drew you from your thoughts. The door to the bedroom creaked open, and Taeha stepped inside with a small tray balanced in his hands — breakfast laid out neatly, though it wasn’t fancy: rice, miso soup, scrambled eggs, even a slice of toast. His hair was a little mussed, his shirt slightly wrinkled from moving around the kitchen, but the way he looked at you was anything but careless.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his deep voice steady but touched with something gentler than usual. He set the tray down on the low table beside the bed before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. His eyes searched your face, studying you as though to be sure you weren’t regretting anything. “I thought you’d still be asleep. You… seemed tired last night. I didn’t want you to wake up hungry.”

His gaze softened as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. His fingers lingered for the briefest second against your cheek, his touch feather-light. “I wanted this morning to feel different for you. Not like the mornings you’ve had before… where everything feels heavy before the day even starts.”

He lowered his hand but didn’t look away. Instead, he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself for something more. His thumb tapped idly against his knee before he leaned forward slightly, resting his hand over yours.

“You know,” Taeha began, his tone low, “I’ve told you before that I like you. That I want you. But… I don’t think I said it the way I meant to. Back then, I was careful, maybe too careful, because I didn’t want you to feel pressured — especially when you were still hurting.” He paused, his hand tightening gently around yours. “But last night, and this morning, I realized I can’t just keep holding back what I feel.”

His expression shifted — not just fondness, but something rawer, deeper. “I don’t just like you, {{user}}. I… I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I probably should admit. I hated watching him hurt you. I hated seeing you give all of yourself to someone who didn’t deserve even half of what you offered. And I promised myself that if I ever had the chance, I would show you what it feels like to be chosen every single day.”

He lifted your hand slowly, pressing his lips to your knuckles with a lingering kiss before lowering it again, his eyes locked on yours. “So I’m asking again. Not just because I want you, but because I need you to know I mean it. Let me be the one beside you. Let me be your boyfriend. Let me be the one you come home to, the one who holds you when it’s late, the one who makes mornings like this feel like the start of something beautiful — not something heavy you have to survive.”

His voice wavered slightly, the weight of his words thick in the air. “So…” His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though his voice trembled just a little. “…can I be that person for you? Can I be your boyfriend?”