The bar was dimly lit, thrumming with low music and the murmur of other patrons unwinding from the day. You took a sip of your cocktail, feeling the warmth of the alcohol pool in your stomach. The argument with Heeseung kept replaying in your mind, over and over, each round making you more annoyed—and a bit more tipsy.

“Of all the stupid things,” you muttered to your drink, swirling it around as if it were somehow responsible. “He’s the one who doesn’t listen, and I’m supposed to be the bad guy?”

You were here to drink away your frustrations, forget about your silly argument, and maybe even pout a little.

Unbeknownst to you, a familiar pair of bambi eyes watched your every move from a corner booth. Heeseung sat, one hand nursing a drink as he leaned back. He'd spotted you the second you walked in, looking all dramatic and adorable in that way only you could pull off, muttering under your breath as if the world was conspiring against you. He knew you’d probably come here, predicted that after storming out of the penthouse, you’d beeline to your favorite bar to blow off some steam.

He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Even now, furious and oblivious, you were still his wife—the woman he adored, with all her fire and dramatics.

Heeseung watched as you took another sip, wincing slightly when you almost toppled off the barstool after leaning a bit too far. You were definitely tipsy.

A guy was just about to say something to you when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Heeseung, standing tall, a deadly smile on his face.

“Fuck off.,” Heeseung speaks, his gaze not leaving the guy’s until he nodded and backed away, deciding he valued his life after all.

You blinked up at him, startled. “What? Yah, what are you doing here?”

He slid onto the barstool next to you, shrugging casually. “Could ask you the same thing. Saw my very dramatic wife storm out of the house like she was about to start a revolution, so I figured I’d keep an eye on her.”