The room started to fill up.
One by one, employees stepped in—chatting softly, flipping through their notebooks, sipping coffee like it was just another ordinary day. But for me? It felt like I was sitting on a bomb.
I kept my eyes low, pretending to read my notes, trying not to think about how close Joonseo and Yuna were sitting. I could feel the tension—even if no one else in the room knew the real story.
Then the door opened again.
And in walked Mr. Seungwoo.
He looked sharp. Confident. Calm. His black dress shirt fit perfectly, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his watch and veins. He greeted a few people with a nod, then spotted me—and smiled.
"Hey," he said, walking over and taking the empty seat beside me.
"Hey," I whispered, trying to play it cool, though my heartbeat was doing flips.
He leaned in a little. "About Saturday—I'll text you the details, alright?"
I nodded. "Sure. Sounds good."
Just then, I glanced up.
And saw Joonseo watching us.
His eyes narrowed slightly, the pen in his hand paused mid-spin. His jaw clenched so fast I thought I imagined it.
Beside him, Yuna was too busy fixing her lip gloss to notice—or maybe she did, but didn't care.
I heard some quiet whispers from across the table.
"Did you see the CEO's face?" one employee muttered to another.
"Yeah. He's definitely not liking this. Who's the new guy?"
"That's Seungwoo. From the Seoul division. He's only here for a year."
I pretended I didn't hear anything. But I heard it all. And a part of me... liked it.
Then, the door opened again.
Ms. Hyejin, the head of creative, stepped in holding a stack of documents.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, taking the lead. "Let's begin the briefing on the Shanghai Juice Ad Campaign."
Joonseo stood, adjusted his blazer, and clicked the remote. The projector lit up with bright visuals—citrus tones, clean graphics, and front and center: Yuna, smiling beside a bottle of juice.
"Here's our concept," he said, voice firm but cold. "Fresh. Energetic. Modern. We want this campaign to speak to freedom and confidence. Yuna is the solo model for this shoot. Production starts next month."
There were a few nods around the table. Some clapped politely.
I sat still, silently watching the screen, thinking how perfect she looked in that fake smile. Meanwhile, I was barely holding myself together.
Then, Mr. Seungwoo raised his hand casually.
"Will there be any supporting models? Or is Yuna the only face in this campaign?"
Yuna cut in before anyone could answer. "I'm the face. The only one." Her tone was light—but there was a sharpness in it.
Seungwoo gave a soft smile. "Just asking. That's all."
Ms. Hyejin nodded and glanced at her list.
"Minji," she said.
"Yes?" I blinked.
"You'll be working directly with the campaign team. Coordination, scheduling, and communications. Handle everything from the media calendar to client check-ins. Understood?"
My heart dropped.
With Yuna? Really?
I forced a small nod. "Yes. I understand."
Then Joonseo finally looked at me—directly.
"Make sure it runs smoothly," he said, as if it was just business.
Right.
Yuna tilted her head and smiled at me. "It'll be fun, Minji. We'll get along great… again."
I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.
But I just nodded and looked down at my notebook, gripping my pen so tightly I nearly snapped it.
They didn't know. None of them.
Not about me and Joonseo.
Not about the marriage, the broken night, the hotel room.
But if this was the game they wanted to play—then fine.
I had Seungwoo.
And I wasn't going to back down.
Because love is war.
And I've just stepped onto the battlefield.
The meeting finally ended.
Everyone stood up, stretching their backs, gathering their papers like they hadn't just watched the quietest war unfold across the table.
I was stuffing my pen into my bag when Seungwoo leaned toward me again.
"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes gentle.
I gave him a tired smile. "Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed."
"You handled it well," he said. Then, without waiting, he added, "Let's go get some coffee. You need it."
I hesitated for a second—just a second—but then nodded.
As we walked out together, side by side, I felt it.Eyes. Whispers. Footsteps halting behind us.
But I didn't turn around.Not even when I knew he was watching.
We walked through the lobby, Seungwoo holding the door open for me like a gentleman. I thanked him under my breath, still trying to steady the storm inside me.
The sunlight outside felt too warm for the cold war I was carrying inside my chest.
As we waited at the corner for the traffic light to change, Seungwoo glanced at me and said, "So, tell me… what's your favorite kind of coffee?"
I smiled, just a little. "Depends. If it's been a bad day, iced Americano. If it's a really bad day… caramel macchiato with extra syrup."
He chuckled. "Then I know what to get you today."
And just like that, for a brief moment, I forgot about last night.
I forgot the candles. The wine. The knock on the door.
I forgot Yuna's fake concern, her smug smile, her "you can go home now."
And I almost forgot Joonseo's cold eyes, watching me walk out of the house we were supposed to share.
But only almost.
Because as we stepped into the café, and I looked at Seungwoo, I realized something:
This might not be love.
But it sure as hell could be revenge.
And maybe… maybe that was enough for now.
We sat by the café window, sunlight pouring through the glass like gold.
Seungwoo placed the caramel macchiato in front of me with a smirk.
"Extra syrup. As ordered," he said, sliding into the seat across from me.
"You remember fast," I said, wrapping my fingers around the warm cup.
"Some things are worth remembering."
I looked at him for a moment. He had this ease about him—smiling like the world never disappointed him. Maybe I needed a little bit of that today.
"So, what's really going on?" he asked.
I paused.
"With what?"
"You and Mr. CEO." His tone wasn't harsh. Not even curious. Just… knowing.
I tensed, pressing my lips to the rim of the cup.
"Nothing," I said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow. "That nothing looks a lot like jealousy."
"Jealousy?" I scoffed. "I'm just his assistant. What's there to be jealous of?"
"That's what I'm asking."
I looked away. Outside, the street was busy. Cars honked. A couple crossed the street holding hands.
My chest tightened.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"You just did," he replied, grinning.
I rolled my eyes. "Seriously."
He nodded, waiting.
"Have you ever loved someone... and then realized they might love someone else?"
His expression changed. The smile faded slowly.
"Yes," he said after a moment. "And I hated every second of it."
I bit my lip and nodded, lowering my eyes to the foam in my cup.
"But then I realized something," he added.
"What?"
"Love shouldn't make you feel disposable."
His words hit deeper than I expected. Like they unlocked a part of me that had been silenced for too long.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"What if you can't walk away?" I whispered. "What if... you're tied to that person in a way that no one else can see?"
He looked at me carefully, but didn't push.
"Then you fight. Either to win their heart or to set yours free."
I didn't know which one I was doing anymore.
We finished our coffee mostly in silence. But it wasn't uncomfortable.
When we stood to leave, Seungwoo walked me back to the company entrance. Before I could step inside, he held my arm gently.
"Hey," he said. "If you ever want to talk about the thing no one's supposed to know… I'm here."
I looked at him, startled.
He just winked and walked away.
That man… he knew.
He didn't say it. But somehow, he knew.
And for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel completely alone.
As I walked back into the building, everything felt... louder.
The echo of my heels.
The buzz of the lights.
The fake smiles of employees passing by.
But inside me? Silence.
A quiet war between pride and heartbreak.
I made my way to my desk, trying to blend into the rhythm of work, but my hands trembled slightly as I held my pen. I couldn't forget Seungwoo's words. "Love shouldn't make you feel disposable."
Then came the sound I didn't want to hear—his footsteps.
Joonseo.
He stopped at the edge of my desk, looking at me like I was something distant. Something unreadable.
"Can we talk?" he said.
I looked up at him, blankly.
"About what?"
"About what happened last night."
I stared. He had the audacity to bring that up here?
Before I could reply, Yuna appeared out of nowhere, clinging to his arm.
"Babe, I found the Shanghai ad folder!" she said, handing him the file with an exaggerated smile.
I didn't miss the way she said "babe."
She wanted me to hear it.
He didn't correct her.
My chest burned. Still, I stood up, calm as ever.
"Excuse me, I have documents to deliver," I said, brushing past him.
But I didn't walk far.
I turned down the hall to the left and ducked into the back stairwell. The door shut behind me with a thud, and suddenly it was just me and the echo of my breath.
I couldn't take this anymore.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the contact name.
Joonseo – Husband.
I should delete that. I should.
But my thumb hovered over the screen, frozen.
Until the stairwell door creaked open behind me.
"Minji."
I turned.
It was him.
But this time, his eyes weren't cold. They were... desperate.
"What are you hiding from?" he asked, voice low.
I laughed bitterly.
"From you."
He stepped closer. "You think I don't see what's happening?"
"No," I snapped. "You don't. You don't see anything unless Yuna puts it in your face with a fake smile and a tight dress."
He grabbed my hand.
"Minji. She doesn't matter. You do."
I froze.
"Then why did you let her humiliate me in my house?"
He didn't answer.
That silence?
That was louder than any lie.
Before I could say another word, my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it. My blood turned cold.
"You can lie to your office, but not to the world. What will they think when they find out the CEO is married to his assistant?"
I looked up.
Someone knew.
And they were ready to expose everything.