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The sleek glass doors of the company slid open as Iseul strode in, her heels clicking against the polished floors with each determined step. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Sunghoon—of course, he wouldn't be here. He was probably too busy basking in Rena's presence. The bitter thought lingered, but she quickly shook it off.

After scanning her ID at the front desk, the green light blinked, signaling her entry was recorded. As she moved further inside, Shuhua appeared seemingly out of nowhere, gripping her wrist with enthusiasm that Iseul found both overwhelming and mildly irritating.

"Iseul!" Shuhua chirped, practically dragging her toward the elevator.

"What now?" Iseul muttered, already regretting showing up today.

"Mr. Park is arriving today. Here's the list of everything he needs. You're going to buy it all and prepare him a meal."

Iseul blinked at the list, the instructions neatly written yet impossibly detailed. She scanned the items, her eyes narrowing at the sheer absurdity of it all. "Why don't you do it?" she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended.

"I'm busy, duh," Shuhua replied with a dramatic roll of her eyes, as though the answer was self-explanatory.

Busy doing what, exactly? Iseul wanted to ask, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she let out a resigned sigh, stuffing the list into her bag. The very idea of serving Sunghoon—of all people—felt like a cruel twist of fate. The last thing she wanted was to face him again, to be reminded of everything she wanted to forget.

After hours of navigating crowded aisles and dodging overzealous shoppers, Iseul finally returned to his apartment, her arms laden with bags. The company card made it easier, sure, but the mental toll of getting every item on the list was exhausting.

She dumped the groceries onto the sleek marble counter, her gaze lingering on the bright mandarins she'd bought—an addition that wasn't on the list.

Peeling one of the mandarins, she inhaled the citrusy scent and allowed herself a rare, bittersweet smile. She couldn't help but think of Sunghoon and how he'd always light up at the mere sight of oranges. His smile, so genuine in those moments, had always been contagious.

"Why am I doing this?" she muttered under her breath as she began preparing orange juice, pouring the freshly squeezed liquid into a pitcher. She knew she was doing too much for someone who seemed utterly indifferent to her efforts. And yet, the habit of caring for him was ingrained too deeply to stop now.

Lost in thought, she accidentally knocked the pitcher, sending a stream of sticky juice cascading down the front of her dress. "Ah!" she yelped, jumping back in shock as the cold liquid seeped into the fabric.

She grabbed a towel, dabbing furiously at the stain, but it was no use. With a groan of frustration, she glanced around, realizing she couldn't just stay like this. Her gaze darted toward Sunghoon's closet—a luxurious cabinet tucked in the corner of his room.

"Guess I'm borrowing one," she muttered, her cheeks warming at the thought of wearing his clothes.

Pushing aside her hesitation, she pulled out a crisp black shirt, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric. It was unmistakably him—clean, sharp, with just a hint of something softer underneath. She slipped it on, rolling up the sleeves as she inspected her reflection in the mirror.

It hung loosely on her frame, the hem brushing against her thighs. For a moment, she froze, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and comfort. She focused on cleaning her dress, determined to finish before anyone—especially Sunghoon—could see her like this.

But fate, as always, seemed to delight in mocking her. The faint, mechanical beeping of a code being entered echoed through the air, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a woman talking. Iseul froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She didn't need to guess who it was—Rena's voice drifted into the room, cutting through the silence.

Panic surged through her veins. Clutching her juice-stained dress, she darted her gaze around the room. There was no time to change, no time to explain why she was wearing Sunghoon's shirt, no time to avoid the mortifying questions that would inevitably follow. Acting on instinct, she bolted toward his closet, slipping through the slightly ajar door as quietly as she could.

"Is that why you couldn't make it to the photoshoot? Because your skincare routine went wrong?" Sunghoon chuckled softly, the sound maddeningly relaxed.

Rena let out a mock gasp, swatting his arm with the playful ease of someone far too comfortable. "See? That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you!" she exclaimed, pouting slightly.

Iseul rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. It was like watching a scene from a cheesy rom-com—except this wasn't a movie, and she wasn't the protagonist. No, she was the unwelcome extra who had stumbled into a set she didn't belong on.

"By the way," Rena added, her voice light and teasing, "the photos with Iseul turned out great."

For a fleeting moment, a glimmer of vindication flickered in Iseul's chest. But it was short-lived.

"It would've been better if it were you."

The words hit Iseul like a slap, sharp and stinging. She inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the shirt in her hands. Her vision blurred with a haze of anger as Rena's delighted laugh echoed in the room.

Iseul cursed under her breath, the words bitter as they spilled from her lips. These two idiots... she thought, her mind racing with a thousand snarky comebacks she'd never dare say aloud. Does he think I don't exist? And her—what's with that smug face?

Sunghoon's gaze drifted to the table, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on the bowl of mandarins. His hand reached out, brushing over one of the bright orange fruits, their scent faint but familiar. He paused, his brow furrowing as he turned the mandarin over in his hand.

"Mandarins? In summer?" he murmured to himself, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was recalling something distant yet vivid. Only one person knew him well enough to prepare something so oddly specific, especially out of season.

He turned to Rena, who was still casually chatting and flipping through her phone. "Did you prepare this?" he asked, holding up the mandarin and tilting his head in curiosity.

From her cramped hiding spot, Iseul froze, her heartbeat quickening. She clenched her fists, biting her lip to keep herself from blurting out the retort brewing in her head. "Come on, Miss Rena, take credit for things that aren't yours—like you usually do," she mumbled softly under her breath.

To her surprise, Rena didn't. She glanced at the bowl briefly, then shrugged with an easy smile. "Me? No way. I wouldn't even think to buy mandarins during summer. Must've been Shuhua who prepared them. She's always running around with these little details."

Sunghoon's expression didn't soften, though. He glanced back at the mandarins, his fingers brushing over the peel again as if something about them didn't quite sit right

Sunghoon stepped away from Rena, muttering an excuse about needing to change, leaving her to fiddle with her phone. Within moments, the faint strains of soft, romantic music filled the room, making Iseul clench her fists inside the cramped closet. Oh, she's really trying to set the mood now, isn't she? Iseul thought bitterly, her jaw tightening.

Before she could stew further in her frustration, the doorknob to the closet turned. Her breath caught, and panic surged through her. She scrambled to grab the nearest shirts, clutching them to her chest in a desperate attempt to shield herself from view.

The door creaked open.

Sunghoon's brows furrowed as his sharp eyes scanned the closet, immediately catching the oddity of legs—bare legs—peeking out from under a tangle of shirts. His face darkened, confusion flickering into something much sharper.

"What the..." he muttered under his breath, and without hesitation, he began pushing the shirts aside, his movements forceful and impatient.

Iseul squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, knowing there was no escape now. Resigned, she slowly peeked up at him, giving him her most awkward, guilty smile.

Sunghoon froze, his hand still clutching a crumpled shirt as his piercing gaze locked onto hers. For a brief second, he didn't say anything, his expression caught between sheer disbelief and growing irritation.

"Iseul?" he finally managed, his voice low and dangerously calm.

"Um, surprise?" she joked weakly, though her laugh came out more like a nervous hiccup.

Sunghoon didn't laugh. He let the shirt drop from his hand and stepped back, his arms crossing as he stared her down.

"Care to explain why exactly you're hiding in my closet?"

"How's it going with Rena? Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Iseul snapped, her voice laced with venom.

"Explain first why the hell you're in my closet."

"Shuhua asked me to prepare for you. And then... I don't know. I just felt like I had to hide."

Sunghoon scoffed, the sound bitter and almost mocking. "Of course, Shuhua asked you. Wouldn't want to do anything for me, would you?" He didn't even bother to look at her, his eyes already shifting toward the shirt in his hands.

Iseul's jaw tightened at his dismissive tone. "Is that what you think?" she shot back, her voice rising just slightly. "I was trying to help, Sunghoon."

He didn't respond, his fingers brushing over the shirt as if she hadn't even spoken. A low groan escaped his lips as he winced in pain, but he pushed through it, ignoring the discomfort. He reached for another shirt without acknowledging the strain in his body.

Iseul's irritation flared, but then something shifted in her—an unexpected pang of concern. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out, almost instinctively, to touch his shoulder. "Does it hurt a lot?" she asked quietly, her voice softer now, the sharp edge of her anger fading into genuine worry.

Sunghoon stiffened, his body tensing under her touch. His head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing with irritation. "It's none of your business," he spat, his words harsh, almost cold.

Rena, having heard Sunghoon's grunt from the other side of the room, immediately stepped forward, her concern clear. "Sunghoon, are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with worry.

Sunghoon waved her off, his tone more irritated than reassuring. "I'm fine, Rena. Just—don't worry about it," he muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He didn't meet her gaze, clearly trying to downplay the pain.

Iseul, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, couldn't stop the bitterness that surged up inside her. Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head in disbelief. "You were bothering me with that Sungchan thing, and now look at you," she snapped, her voice thick with frustration. "This whole situation... it's exactly the same."

Sunghoon's gaze flickered briefly towards her, clearly annoyed. "That's different," he retorted, the words coming out sharp and defensive.

"No, it's not!" Iseul's voice rose, her emotions getting the best of her. "What you're doing right now is exactly what couples do, while me and Sungchan are just acting like best friends. And then you go and misunderstand everything, shouting at me like I'm some—"

"Just shut up," Sunghoon cut her off, his voice dangerously low, but the words didn't stop Iseul.

"Iseul! Keep quiet!" he barked, growing frustrated.

"No, I won't," Iseul shot back, her voice defiant. She couldn't contain herself anymore. All the hurt, the confusion, the misunderstandings—it all poured out in a rush of words.

But just as she was about to say more, Sunghoon let out another loud grunt, his pain evident. Rena, panicked once again, called for him, her voice laced with worry. "Sunghoon!" she cried, but he waved her away, clearly trying to push through it.

"Iseul, keep quiet and don't come out," he warned, his voice low and stern, a tone that told her not to argue. There was an edge to his command that she hadn't heard before, a coldness that made her stop in her tracks.

Iseul froze for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. But she wasn't ready to back down just yet. She stood there for a long beat, staring at the closet door, then finally decided to do what she always did when she couldn't speak her mind—hide.

She grabbed a nearby pile of shirts, pulling them over herself like a shield, her body stiff with both anger and resignation. But despite her need to retreat, her curiosity won out. She couldn't help herself. Slowly, she peeked out from behind the shirts, her eyes locking onto Sunghoon as he undressed, unaware of her presence.

For a brief moment, the room felt suffocating—her heart thumping in her chest as she tried to avoid being caught. She felt like a thief, but at the same time, she couldn't tear herself away from the scene before her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rena left. Iseul, who had been waiting in the closet, felt the tightness in her chest loosen slightly but was still burning with frustration. She couldn't hold herself in there any longer.

With a sharp breath, she opened the closet door and stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she walked toward Sunghoon. Her glare could have burned through stone as she fixed her eyes on him.

"My deepest apologies," she said sarcastically, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, "I must've interrupted your romantic getaway."

But Sunghoon wasn't really listening to her words. His eyes were fixed on something else entirely—her attire. Iseul's dress had been ruined earlier by an accidental spill of juice, and now she was wearing one of his oversized T-shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her frame, but still clinging in all the right places. Sunghoon's gaze lingered uncomfortably.

"Iseul..." His voice faltered, and he seemed at a loss for words, unable to form a coherent sentence. His eyes were still fixed on her—more specifically, her thighs, exposed by the short length of his shirt.

Iseul noticed the shift in his gaze, and her face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, this?" she gestured nonchalantly to the shirt, trying to make light of the situation, "I spilled juice over my dress... the rest is history."

Sunghoon was still staring, his brain clearly struggling to process the image before him. "You..." He was trying to speak, but his words came out stilted, as he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. "You... um... you..."

"Don't look! I'm embarrassed," Iseul snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would somehow shield her from his gaze.

"I'm not looking," Sunghoon muttered quickly, though his eyes didn't leave her. He was lying—clearly, his gaze was glued to her, and with each passing second, he seemed more captivated than he'd intended. "But you seem like you're getting too comfortable at my house."

"Instead of thanking me, you're scolding me?"

"Why would I thank you? I put my life in danger for you, yet you didn't even bother to call. If it were me, I wouldn't have left your side."

Iseul's gaze dropped to the floor, a sharp pang of guilt sweeping over her. But the guilt wasn't because of what he thought—it was because he didn't know the real reason, the truth she was hiding deep inside her. The truth she could never share with him.

"You looked too happy with the one who stayed," Iseul said flatly, her voice laced with bitterness. "Why would I interfere?"

Sunghoon's eyes narrowed, his frustration growing. "So, that's what you're going to say?"

Iseul didn't meet his gaze. "Yes. Now I'm leaving."

"Like that?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising in disbelief.

"Of course, like that," she shot back, her temper flaring. "I'm going back to my job, and you can piss off." The words were out before she could stop them, but in that moment, it felt like the only defense she had left.

She turned to leave, but Sunghoon wasn't finished. "Like that?" he repeated, voice low, as he stepped toward her.

Iseul glanced at her clothes—his shirt—then rolled her eyes in frustration. With a sharp breath, she turned on her heel and headed for the bathroom, her steps quick and sharp as she tried to escape the tension that still hung heavy between them. Sunghoon, though, watched her, trying to suppress a grin. He was almost impressed by her stubbornness, even if it did drive him crazy.

She skidded past him, leaving him standing there, unable to contain the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Iseul, ever defiant, never gave him an inch, and for some reason, that only made him want to push her more.

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yall are nawttt ready for the next two chps