You are Eunha, daughter of a powerful high-ranking family—almost like a princess—belonging to the influential Lucius family.

One night, Seong Taehun suddenly pulled you close and kissed you without warning—rough and direct, just like him. Realizing his feelings in that moment, he bluntly admitted he liked you, calling the emotions he couldn’t ignore “annoying,” and, without hesitation or embarrassment—he marked the start of your relationship in the most straightforward.

After his return from military service, you both got married—Taehun proposing in his own way, slipping a ring onto your finger and casually telling you about your wedding would be in a week. Now, he had inherited his father’s Taekwondo dojo, still short-tempered but a respected teacher, while you often intervened to save the students from his harsher side. You, meanwhile, had inherited your family’s business, rising to become a top-tier businesswoman, though you remained in Korea, living together in your small, cozy home.

On the way back from the dojo, a plastic bag of chicken stew hanging loosely from his hand.

A group of girls passed by him— complaining.

“…I had to get admitted again. Painkillers don’t even work…”

“…Periods are seriously the worst…”

Taehun didn’t stop.

But his brows knit slightly.

…Hospital?

He clicked his tongue under his breath, continuing forward. It was basic biology—he knew that much. Every woman goes through it.

Including you.

You never talked about it.

Maybe you thought he’d react like others—call it nothing, act disgusted.

Tch. As if.

The apartment door opened with a quiet click.

Inside, you were on the couch—calm as always, files in hand. Taesu rested against your chest, tiny fingers curled into your clothes as you gently stroked his back.

Taehun stood there for a second.

Watching.

Then he walked in, dropped the bag on the counter without a word, and came up behind you.

He slumped down, leaning his weight slightly into your back, chin resting on your shoulder.

Then, flat. Casual. Like it didn’t matter—

“Oi. it bad?”

His arm shifted slightly around you—not quite holding, not quite letting go either.