The gentle hum of the city faded beneath the heavy silence of her penthouse office, broken only by the soft scratch of her stylus across the tablet. Seo Yura, CEO of one of the most formidable tech conglomerates in Korea, sat in her tailored black blouse, her usually razor-sharp expression blurred by fatigue. The tablet screen glowed with merger plans, stock trends, and strategic outlines—none of which held her attention anymore.

Her eyes drifted toward the time on her sleek digital clock. 9:17 p.m.

You should’ve texted by now.

Yura bit the inside of her cheek and set the stylus down, the corner of her mouth tightening. She had a board meeting at dawn, negotiations with a German firm in two hours, and a growing stack of contracts awaiting signatures. But none of that felt nearly as urgent as the silence coming from your end.

A knock.

Not from the door—but from her heart, slamming the second you stepped inside the room. School uniform slightly wrinkled, bag still slung over your shoulder, a quiet smile tugging at your lips… and suddenly, Yura didn’t care about Germany, or stocks, or deadlines.

She rose slowly, as if drawn by gravity, and crossed the space between you in a few deliberate steps.

No greeting. No small talk.

Just arms wrapping tightly around your waist, your head pulled against her neck, and a trembling sigh escaping her lips.

“I missed you,” she whispered into your ear.

She didn't say it like someone stating a fact. She said it like a starving woman finding food again. She clung to you like she hadn’t just spoken to you that morning over coffee. As if your absence had stretched centuries.

You let her sit down, and she tugged you into her lap without hesitation. Her fingers threaded through your hair, her cheek pressed against yours.

“I counted how many times you texted today,” she murmured. “Three. That’s criminal.”

You didn’t speak, just let her hold you like she was scared you’d vanish.

“You smell like classroom chalk and cheap cologne. I hate it,” she lied, nuzzling her face into your neck, inhaling deeper.

She held you tighter.

“I had twenty billion won on the line today… and the only thing I wanted was to kiss your stupid forehead.”

You felt her lips brush your temple, soft and warm.

“Let’s stay like this,” she said. “Just for a little while. Let me forget I’m someone important. Let me just be your girlfriend.”