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[Star ] - [Colde]

The family was still in the middle of dealing with their father's depression. The atmosphere in the house felt heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words and lingering sadness.

Sohee, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood, his voice breaking through the tension. "If you lost your journal, it's fine," he said with an attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'll use magnetizing later so you can remember everything."

Iseul scrunched her nose at her brother's idiotic attempt to make everything seem okay. She lifted her eyes, distracted from her thoughts for a moment, and there he was.

Sunghoon was talking with his sister, his back turned toward Iseul.

Sohee noticed Iseul staring and casually mentioned, "Oh, it's Yeji."

Sohee who had been on the verge of waving, suddenly dropped his hand. He started doing this when he saw Yeji. He learned lately that she liked nonchalant men.

Iseul's thoughts were clouded as she watched Sunghoon walk toward his car. Her mind replayed Chaeryoung's words from earlier—if her plan worked, it meant he was still here for her, wasn't he?

That thought tugged at her, and before she could stop herself, she found her legs moving toward him, her feet crunching softly on the gravel as she approached his car.

She reached for the door handle, her fingers brushing the cool metal. She tried to open it, only to find it locked.

Sunghoon lowered his window, his gaze cool and unwavering as he glanced at Iseul. "Iseul, it's 8:30 right now. You won't be able to catch the bus. You know I don't tolerate tardiness."

Iseul puckered her lips, trying her best to ignore the embarrassment creeping up her neck. She forced a smile, too sweet and too fake, as she met his eyes.

"Thanks for the reminder," she muttered, but before she could retreat, he rolled the window back up, the subtle sound of it moving echoing through the air.

Frustration bubbled up in Iseul, and before she could think better of it, she picked up a rock from the ground and threw it at his car. The rock made a sharp noise as it collided with the window, and Sunghoon's car jerked to a sudden stop. He hadn't even flinched.

Iseul didn't waste another second. She turned on her heel, her heart pounding, and ran. Her steps were quick, fueled by irritation, and as her breath grew heavy, she couldn't help but feel the rush of satisfaction from getting under his skin.

But Sunghoon didn't give chase. He simply watched her go, his lips quirking upward into a small smile. On any other day, he would have shouted at her, given her an earful, maybe even thrown in a sarcastic remark. But today... today was different.

The reason was simple—he had learned something from Sunghchan the night before, during their basketball match. He was told something that threw him off balance. Iseul, laughed at Sunghchan's confession.

As Sunghoon walked into the company, an unusually bright smile stretched across his face, one that was almost foreign to those who worked around him. He greeted everyone in passing, his usual stoic expression replaced by an almost uncontainable energy. It was clear something had shifted, something that made him lighter than usual.

He headed straight for the meeting room, ready to tackle whatever the marketing team had on their plate. As expected, the meeting was going smoothly.

But then, just as he thought everything was set, Rena spoke up, her voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

"Sunghoon, please don't get mad at me, but... the magazine they wanted representatives from our company to model for this campaign, and I might've signed us up."

Sunghoon's brows furrowed, his smile fading slightly as he turned his gaze toward Rena. "You could've at least asked me, Rena," he replied, trying to maintain his composure, though the slightest edge of irritation seeped through his words.

Rena gave a sheepish smile, but before Sunghoon could add anything more, Iseul's jaw dropped, because of Rena's bold move, and because something about it stirred feelings in Iseul. She couldn't explain it—she was mad, but not for the reasons she thought.

The meeting ended shortly after, leaving Iseul to stew in her thoughts. She was eager to return to her desk, to find something—anything—to distract her from the knot forming in her stomach. But as she walked past her coworkers, their whispered conversations floated into her ears, words she couldn't escape.

"I think Sunghoon and Rena look so good together," one voice whispered, the words carrying more than just casual observation.

"I bet they're in a secret relationship," another voice added, as if they had all agreed on it.

Iseul stopped in her tracks, the weight of their words landing on her chest like a heavy stone. Secret relationship? Was that what they thought? She clenched her jaw, the sharp pang of jealousy mixed with something darker she couldn't quite understand.

The next day came, and Iseul was preparing the photoshoot space, trying her hardest to ignore the jealousy gnawing at her insides.

She was focused on the task, but every so often her gaze flickered toward Sunghoon, who was talking to Sana. He was frowning—something about his usual composure seemed off. Sana, in contrast, was nervously biting her nails, her fingers shaking slightly as she glanced down at the ground, clearly anxious.

Iseul couldn't help but watch them. The tension in the air was palpable. Sunghoon, despite his calm demeanor, looked deep in thought, his brows furrowed in concentration. Sana was biting her lip now, clearly distressed, her hands trembling as she gestured toward the shoot. Iseul's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively took a step back, feeling like an intruder.

After a few moments, Sunghoon gave her a curt nod, walking away from her and the conversation, leaving Sana behind.

Sana hurried toward Iseul, her face pale. Her usual cool, calculated demeanor was gone, replaced by panic.

"Iseul," she began, her voice tight with worry. "We're in trouble. Rena can't come. She's sick."

"So what? We cancel the shoot, then."

Sana's eyes widened, and she grabbed Iseul's arm, pulling her to the side. "We can't cancel. You don't understand. We have a reputation. The company's counting on us. We need someone to step in."

Iseul's lips tightened in frustration. "Then we need a—"

Before she could finish, Sana glanced at her, and the smirk appeared—like it was always waiting there, hidden beneath the surface.

"You'll be perfect for the job," Sana

"No. I'm not doing that."

Sana was quick to respond, her hands shaking as she gestured toward the chaos of the set. "You don't have a choice. We need this, Iseul. Do you understand? I can't fix this without you."

Iseul shook her head, stepping back. "I'm not here to be a model, Sana. You know that."

But it didn't matter. As they ushered her to the makeup chair, Iseul's protests were drowned out by the frantic energy around her.

Every step she took, every layer of makeup they applied to her, made her more uncomfortable. She kept arguing, trying to pull herself away from the situation, but Sana was relentless.

"I said no," Iseul grumbled, wincing as the makeup artist brushed a stroke of powder over her face. "I don't want to do this. It's ridiculous."

Sana's patience was wearing thin. She snapped, "Shut it for once, please."

Iseul sighed, staring at her reflection in the bridal gown. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, but all she could feel was a hollow ache in her chest. She had imagined this moment so many times before—wearing a beautiful dress.

She turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath, steadying herself before walking toward the set where the camera and Sunghoon awaited.

As soon as she stepped into the room, Sunghoon's eyes locked onto her. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp, involuntary intake of air. She looked like a vision—a ghost from the past.

The white dress she wore was too much, too familiar, too much like the one she wore on their wedding day. He could almost hear the wedding bells in his head, the memories flooding back. He quickly shook them off, forcing himself to focus, to pretend he wasn't feeling this overwhelming wave of nostalgia.

He turned his attention to the photographer, but it was no use. His mind was still stuck on the image of Iseul in that dress.

"Couldn't you find anyone else?" Sunghoon's voice was sharper than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. But his words were already out.

Sana, who had been standing nearby, didn't miss a beat. She raised an eyebrow and responded coolly, "With all due respect, sir, if I had listened to you, our stocks would have dropped by 5%."

Iseul stood still, the white backdrop swallowing the space around her as she kept her distance from Sunghoon. Her smile was a thin veil, carefully crafted to hide the deep, gnawing unease that clawed at her.

The coldness of the set seemed to amplify the ghosts of their past—those whispered memories of a love that had once been vibrant but was now left to decay. Every step she took felt like walking over the remains of a life she no longer recognized, of a version of herself that didn't belong in this room anymore.

The camera clicked again, and each flash seemed to strike deeper, like reminders of things they couldn't escape.

Sunghoon stood next to her, his posture stiff, his gaze distant. He was barely touching her waist, his fingers not a sign of affection but a boundary.
The space between them was more than physical; it was everything they hadn't said, everything they hadn't resolved.

"Mr. Park, please," the photographer urged, impatience rising in his voice. "Put your hand on her waist and look at each other. With love."

The command sliced through the air, but the words fell flat in the space between them. The love the photographer was asking for didn't exist in the way it once had. It had been replaced with resentment, with hurt, with days of silence and unspoken apologies that never came.

Sunghoon's gaze met hers, and the weight of it nearly made her falter. It wasn't the softness she had once known. There was no spark of tenderness, no playful affection. What she saw in his eyes now was something darker—something haunted. The way he looked at her was the way someone might look at the ghost of their past, trying to figure out if it was worth confronting or better left forgotten.

But she couldn't look away, and neither could he. The silence grew heavier, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The truth of their situation loomed between them, impossible to ignore. She wanted to scream, to break free from the chains of this performative moment, but she held herself together.

The photographer's voice broke through the heavy air again, "Not with sadness. With love!"

But this time, neither of them responded to the command. Instead, they just stood there, faces inches apart, suspended in time. The tension in the room crackled, but beneath it, there was something more—a flicker of something they had once shared, something that hadn't completely died.

Iseul's chest tightened, her pulse racing as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Sunghoon's eyes softened, just for a moment, and in that brief, fragile second, it wasn't two people who had hurt each other. It wasn't a man and a woman caught in the ruins of their past. It was something else entirely. Something that hadn't been extinguished yet.

Their gazes locked, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of everything else seemed to lift. It was as if the world faded away, leaving just the two of them standing there. The pain, the regrets, they were all still there, lingering in the background, but for that moment, there was something that still connected them. A flicker of hope, a longing for something they couldn't quite name.

The walls between them were still high, but the cracks were starting to show. For a fleeting moment, they weren't just two people who had hurt each other. They were two people who might still, maybe, love each other.

The photographer's voice broke through the heavy air again, louder this time, as if trying to snap them out of the trance they were in.

"Done!" he repeated, his tone more insistent. But Sunghoon and Iseul didn't react immediately. They stood there, frozen, as if time had stopped, both still caught in the moment they shared.

Then, as though the world was finally tugging them back to reality, they pulled apart with a jolt, as if they had been burned by the touch they once shared.  The space between them was vast again, the distance sharp enough to remind them that they were not the people they used to be.

Sana, noticing the awkwardness, clapped her hands loudly, breaking the silence. "Great job, Iseul!" she cheered excitedly.

Iseul, still dazed from what just happened, tried to muster a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was still processing everything—the way Sunghoon had looked at her, the silent exchange that had been so intense. It all felt like a dream now, something that couldn't possibly be real.

But neither of them noticed the loose lamp that was slowly sliding down from the wall above them, its grip weakening as the weight of it slowly grew. The moment felt suspended in time as Iseul stared at the floor, unaware of the danger coming her way.

It was Sunghoon, from across the room, who caught sight of the pole starting to fall. His eyes widened in panic, and without thinking, he sprinted towards Iseul, his heart pounding in his chest.

Everything moved in slow motion. He could see the lamp coming down, the threat to her, and the realization that she hadn't noticed it.

"Iseul!" he shouted, but it was too late. The lamp was descending rapidly.

Without hesitation, he reached her just in time, pushing her aside with all his strength. Iseul stumbled, barely aware of what was happening.

Sunghoon, however, had already absorbed the impact of the lamp. It hit him squarely on the back, sending a shock of pain through him as his body crumpled to the floor. He groaned in pain, but before he could process the intensity of the injury, darkness took over.

The last thing he saw was Iseul's face, her eyes wide with shock and concern, but it was quickly replaced by darkness. He lost consciousness, his body falling limp to the floor as Iseul cried out his name in panic.

Iseul knelt by his side, her hands trembling as she touched his face, her heart racing. She didn't know what to feel—fear, guilt, confusion. She had never expected this, never imagined that things would come to this point. And yet, there he was, unconscious and vulnerable at her feet.

Was this some strange twist of fate? The man she had hurt so deeply, was now lying in front of her, in need of her care.

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since im a fashion geek here's how i envisioned Iseul's closet