The reception had faded. The guests were gone. The stars remained.
Inside the quiet villa, Hana stood in front of the mirror, fingers tracing the silk of her gown. Everything still felt unreal—like she'd stepped into someone else's dream.
Mi-Ho walked in, jacket off, tie loosened. He leaned in the doorway, just watching her.
"You didn't run," he said softly.
"I was tired of running."
He stepped closer. "You were always brave. You just didn't know it."
She turned. "And now?"
He smiled. "Now you terrify me—in the best way."
She laughed, breath shaky.
Then silence.
Not awkward. Not heavy.
Sacred.
When his hands found hers, they weren't claiming—they were offering.
And when she leaned in, she wasn't surrendering—she was choosing.
That night, they didn't talk about scars or pasts or fear.
They just breathed.
Together.