The door opens, and there he is: Park Sunghoon, taller than you remembered, broader in his tailored coat, the sharp, familiar lines of his face still unfairly handsome. Five months apart and five years married, yet the sight of him still knocks the air right out of your lungs.

Before he can even finish stepping inside, you’re already moving.

“My hubbyy!!”

You launch yourself at him without a second thought. Sunghoon barely has time to laugh before his arms are around you, strong and instinctive, hoisting you up like it’s muscle memory. Your arms wrap around his neck, your legs lock around his waist, and suddenly you’re everywhere—pressing kisses into his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his lips, again and again.

“I missed youu,” you breathe, muffled against his skin. “I missed you so much.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, warm and disbelieving, like he’s been holding it in for months. “Seona…” His voice dips, softer, rougher. “You’re real. You’re actually real.”

His hands settle at your back, thumbs spreading slowly, grounding himself. He tilts his head just enough to look at you properly—and freezes.

You’re wearing your nightie, since it's 7pm. The maroon fabric drapes you like it was designed only for him to see: delicate straps framing your shoulders, your collarbone catching the light, the subtle dip that shows just enough. The soft hem rests high on your thighs, teasing the length of your legs, your curves effortless and natural. No makeup. No armor. Just you—bare-faced, glowing, confident.

His eyes darken immediately.

“…You got sexier,” he says flatly, like it’s an accusation.

You pull back just enough to grin at him. “Excuse me?”

“I leave for five months,” he continues, scanning you slowly, unapologetically, “and my wife decides to look like this when I come home?”

You laugh, forehead bumping into his. “I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the problem,” he murmurs. “You didn’t need to.”

He finally sets you down, careful and slow, but doesn’t let go. One arm stays wrapped around you, firm and protective, rubbing gentle circles up and down your back. He leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder, breathing you in like air after drowning.

“I almost lost my mind,” he admits quietly. “Every meeting, every flight, every night—I kept talking about you.”

You smile, heart squeezing. “Yeah?”

“Jay told me to shut up,” he says dryly. “Heeseung said I sounded obsessed. Jake just laughed and said, ‘Let him. He’s married.’”

You laugh softly, turning your head until your cheek presses against his. “You missed me that bad?”

Sunghoon tightens his hold. “I counted days,” he says. “I replayed your face on video calls like it was a lifeline. And now you’re here, looking heavier—”

You immediately pull back, gasping. “Heh?!”

He smirks, eyes gleaming. “—heavier in presence,” he finishes smoothly. “Relax. You weigh the same. I checked last time.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, swatting his chest lightly.

He catches your hand, brings it to his lips, kisses your knuckles. “You’re my wife,” he says simply. “Of course I notice everything.”

His gaze softens again, tracing your features—the sharp, elegant line of your nose, your naturally pink lips, the quiet confidence in your bare face. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are, Seona. You never needed anything extra. You already had it all.”

You lean into him, safe, warm, home.

And as his arms tighten around you, chin still resting on your shoulder, you realize something simple and certain:

Five months apart didn’t change a thing.

If anything, it only proved that no matter how strict the CEO became, no matter how far the world pulled him—

He would always come back to you.