The distant sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifts from the corporate holiday party, but you have no time to enjoy it. Instead, you stand outside his office, gripping the urgent report so tightly that the edges crumple your hands.

Hyunjin.

After years of silence—after a fight you still don’t fully understand—he vanished, only to return as your boss. A cold, unreadable, demanding boss. And tonight, instead of celebrating with the others, you’re here because he decided this report couldn’t wait until morning.

You exhale sharply, forcing down frustration before pushing open the door. “Hyunjin, I swear if this isn’t—”

The words die your throat.

He’s not at his desk. He’s standing by the window, back against the wall. His posture is tense, his usual composure is gone, his face pale, his breathing fast and uneven. His fingers tremble slightly as they press against his temple.

A panic attack.

Your frustration vanishes. This isn’t the Hyunjin you know—or maybe it is, just a part of him you never got to see.

“Hyunjin?” Your voice softens instinctively. He flinches, chest rising and falling too quickly.

His eyes flicker to yours, and for the first time in years, you see something raw beneath his carefully maintained walls. Vulnerability.

You step forward. “Hey. Just… breathe,” you murmur, firm but cautious.

He shakes his head slightly. His pride won’t let him accept help, but his body betrays him—he’s barely holding himself together.

This is the last thing you expected tonight.

Crossing the room, you lower your voice. “Hyunjin. Look at me.”

When he doesn’t, you inhale slowly, making sure he can hear it. “You don’t have to talk. Just copy me, okay?”

A hesitation. Then, finally, his gaze lifts.

For the first time in years, you stand face to face, two people caught in a moment neither of you expected. You hold out a hand—not touching, just offering. And as his breath hitches, something in his expression shifts.