Chapter 127: The Snow That Melted Into Spring

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Doyoon’s face, inches away. I froze. Then stared, blank and reeling. Yesterday crashed back in full color.

So the crying, the confession… it wasn’t a dream.

My cheeks burned again. We’d tumbled into bed the second we got home, swept up in the moment. We hadn’t gone all the way, but the fact that we’d acted like lovers was mortifying enough.

If our eyes met now, it’d be awkward. I needed to get up first.

I shifted—just a little.

Doyoon’s eyes snapped open.

“Gah!”

“Planning to sneak off without a word?”

“You… you were awake?”

He grinned. “More like never slept.”

Then he yanked me into his arms. I sucked in a breath—his scent, warm and familiar, wrapped around me.

“…Scared you’d wake up, say it was all a lie, and bolt.”

Guilt stabbed me.

“No… I wouldn’t.”

“How can I trust that? You said ‘I’ll think about it, give me time’—then vanished overseas. Blocked my number.”

“I…”

No excuse.

“…Sorry.”

He smiled. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

He pecked my lips with a loud mwah, then rolled out of bed. I buried my flaming face under the blanket and refused to emerge.

The fridge was a wasteland, yet somehow Doyoon scraped together a perfect omelet. He frowned at the empty shelves.

“We’re grocery shopping. Today.”

I nodded, eyes fixed on his philtrum. Couldn’t meet his gaze.

Thinking about last night made my face scorch again. I’m going insane.

He spoke casually, like nothing happened.

“What do you usually do?”

“Me? French classes. Edit movie recap videos. Thought about vlogs, but… I like stories.”

He tilted his head. “You’ve always loved film. Why not make your own movie? You’d be good.”

I flinched. I’d secretly toyed with writing a script. Cleared my throat.

“…Maybe later.”

Normal talk eased the tension. I relaxed, speared a fluffy bite of egg, and asked carefully,

“How long can you stay?”

He shot me a glare.

“Trying to kick me out already?”

“No! Just… worried.”

“How long do you want me here?”

His playful eyes said he’d stay exactly as long as I asked. I squirmed.

“If you want… I could live here forever.”

“What about the company—”

He sighed, mock-exasperated.

“I told you—Haewon won’t collapse without me. We have professional CEOs. Veterans with twenty-plus years.”

My face fell. He shook his head.

“I booked a week. If you said no, I was gonna beg for seven days. If that failed…”

“Failed how?”

He smiled, mysterious. “Good thing you gave in fast.”

What was Plan B?

He changed the subject.

“But seriously—how did you lie to my face like that?”

I laughed awkwardly. Of course he’d circle back.

“I thought… I’d only hold you back.”

“You confessed first. How is that holding me back?”

He studied me, serious now.

“Afraid of what people will say? You can keep living as a Haewon son. I’m good at secrets.”

I stopped chewing.

“Wouldn’t hiding forever… make you miserable?”

“Not a press conference—just… our families will never know. You’ll be in the spotlight. No regrets?”

He went quiet.

Then:

“Mother knows.”

I choked. “What?”

“She’s the one who told me you like me. Is that not enough?”

My jaw dropped. Shin Miseon?

“Why would she—”

“She said she wants you happy.”

Tears pricked. Her face—“I want you to be happy too”—flashed in my mind.

“Mother…”

“She knows who belongs beside you.”

He grinned, smug and dazzling. I had no comeback.

Then he sobered.

“But if you want, I’ll look into disownment. We both leave the registry. Strangers. Live abroad together.”

“NO!”

I flailed, horrified. He’d actually do it.

“Not that—I thought… I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Who is, then?”

I mumbled, “Bae Jian…”

His face twisted.

“She’s dating Hwang Yeonseok. Getting married soon.”

“WHAT?!”

I yelped. In the original story, Yeonseok ended up with her sister. Now he’d stolen the heroine?

I muttered, “How dare he… he’s not even as good-looking as you.”

Wait—did that supermarket run-in mean… they were already together?

Probability of meeting a French business trip contact in a Korean mart…

If they’re the leads, it fits.

Then Doyoon… really stepped out of the male lead role.

He stared.

“You actually liked her?”

“Never.”

I laughed—sudden, relieved. Knowing the heroine’s ending snapped something loose. A shackle, gone.

“No one would’ve guessed you liked me.”

He snorted. “Everyone but you knew.”

“I kept thinking I was delusional. Overreaching…”

CLANG!

His knife hit plate, table, floor—chaos.

I jumped up. “You okay? Hurt?”

He ignored it. Stared, frantic.

“You felt it too? When? What feeling?”

I realized what I’d said.

“D-don’t know.”

Face on fire, I sat and shoveled omelet.

Glanced up—and froze.

“Why are you crying?!”

“Can’t believe it…”

Extremist!

“You felt the same… I thought I was alone. Hoping. Crashing. Over and over…”

No crying at breakfast!

I stood, circled the table, pulled his head to my chest. He wrapped arms around my waist. Ticklish. I held my breath, stroked his hair.

“…The day you came back. First time at the company. Six years.”

He looked up.

“You seemed… different. Scary. But… my heart raced. I was happy to see you…”

He shot to his feet, lunged for a kiss.

I blocked with my palm. “We’re eating!”

“After food?”

“NO!”

Breakfast abandoned, we chased each other around the kitchen. Chairs toppled. Laughter and shrieks. We crashed to the floor, tangled and giggling.

Doyoon pinned me, nipped my lip and cheek, licked the spot. I scrunched my nose.

He whispered, desperate:

“Let’s stay here. Forever. Throw everything away.”

His hand slipped under my shirt.

I flushed, rolled us hard, straddled him. Pressed a finger to his lips—soft, pouty.

“No. I don’t want you giving up anything else for me.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

I cut in:

“So let’s go back to Korea. Together.”

His eyes went wide as saucers.