The office smelled of polished mahogany and old money. Bookshelves lined the walls in rigid symmetry, each title untouched and perfect. Ethan stood by the doorway, arms behind his back, his father seated behind the massive oak desk, and his mother off to the side, hands folded neatly in her lap.
They offered him tea. Or warmth. But he didn't received it.
"I came to tell you something," Ethan said, his voice even, almost rehearsed.
His father look up from the papers he was reviewing. "This must be serious if you bothered to come in person."
Ethan ignored the jab. "I'm getting married."
Silence.
The clock ticked once.
His mother looked up first, startled. "To whom?"
"Han Soo Ah."
Her eyebrows lifted in quiet recognition. "The neurologist? From the Han Group?"
Ethan nodded. "Yes."
His father looked at him. The stare was warm, peaceful . "I just couldn't express to you how happy I am for you. My blessing will be always with you."
"I don't need a blessing," Ethan replied coolly. "I came out of courtesy."
"To marry a girl from a family less powerful than yours, are you sure she isn't marrying you for you're money ?" his father said.
Ethan's jaw tensed. " I'm marrying someone who understands me. That's all."
His mother's voice softened. "Do you love her?"
He was quiet for a moment. Not because he was unsure—but because love wasn't the word he used often. Still, he answered:
"She's chaos, and warmth. Unpredictable, stubborn, too curious for her own good. But she sees through everything. Including me."
His father leaned back in his chair, impressed. "And what does she get out of this?"
His mother looked at him—more gently now. "Ethan… I don't know if this is right or wrong. But I do know you've been carrying grief for too long. If she helps you carry it, even a little… maybe that's enough."
His father said nothing.
Ethan turned to leave.
"We'll marry next month. I didn't come to ask permission. I came to tell you."
Before the door closed, his mother spoke softly behind him.
"Invite us to the wedding, Ethan. Even if you don't think we deserve it."
He paused—just briefly.
Then left without answering.
_________________
The following day...
The Kim residence was colder than Soo Ah expected. Not in temperature—but in feeling.
Everything was perfectly arranged: white orchids by the window, a grand piano no one played anymore, crystal cups that gleamed without use. It was beautiful—but lifeless.
Ethan's mother greeted her at the door, warm but tentative.
"Thank you for coming, Soo Ah."
"You didn't give me much of a choice," Soo Ah said with a playful smile. "But I was curious."
They sat in the drawing room. Tea was served in silence. It was the kind of silence that weighed more than noise.
"I asked you here," Mrs. Kim said after a long pause, "because I needed to speak to you without Ethan in the room."
Soo Ah raised an eyebrow. "Planning to warn me about your emotionally distant, borderline terrifying son?"
A smile cracked the older woman's face—small, tired, but real. "Something like that."
She looked down at her hands for a moment, then up.
"We blamed him," she said quietly. "When Jin died. We didn't know the full story then, but we still blamed him. Words we can't take back. Things we broke without realizing how deep."
Soo Ah's expression softened. She leaned in, uncharacteristically quiet.
"We know the truth now. And we've been trying to live with what we did. But Ethan... he never came back."
"You hurt him," Soo Ah said. "And he doesn't let people close easily."
Mrs. Kim nodded slowly. "He doesn't show it, but he's still grieving. Not just for Jin. For us. For the family we stopped being."
"And you think I can fix that?"
"No," Mrs. Kim said. "But maybe you can remind him that light still exists. That not everything has to be controlled or buried."
Soo Ah tilted her head, considering.
"He doesn't need light," she said softly. "He needs someone who won't look away from his darkness. Someone who doesn't flinch."
Mrs. Kim looked at her, surprised.
"And you think you can be that person?"
"I already am," Soo Ah said simply. "I've seen the worst parts of him."
There was something fierce in her voice—something bright and wild.
"I didn't come here for your approval," she added. "But... thank you for loving him, even if it came too late. I think he needs to hear that one day."
Mrs. Kim's eyes shimmered.
"When that day comes... will you be there?"
Soo Ah smiled, wide and real.
"I already chose him. Even before he knew he needed to be chosen."
________________
Ethan walked into Soo -ah's penthouse like a storm held just beneath the surface—silent, tightly wound, dangerous.
Soo Ah looked up from the couch, legs tucked under her, half a grin on her face. "You're here ."
He dropped his coat on the stand, slow and deliberate.
"You visited my mother."
Soo Ah blinked, then shrugged. "She invited me and I was curious."
Ethan stared at her, unreadable. "And you accepted without telling me."
Soo Ah smirked. " Do you own me, Ethan."
"I don't need to," he said flatly. "But if you're going to act like we're allies, you'll follow the terms."
She stood, still playful—though tension crept into her shoulders. "Terms? This isn't a contract."
"It is," Ethan replied coldly. "Everything with me is a contract. Spoken or not."
Soo Ah's smile faded. "She didn't do anything. She just talked. About you. About the guilt. About wanting you to have someone in your life."
"She has no say in my life," Ethan said. "And neither do you."
That stung more than she expected.
"You're not my anything," Ethan said sharply.
She went still.
He stepped closer, voice like frost. "Next time you go behind my back, we're done. I don't care what your feelings are or what you think you're trying to fix. Stay out of my family. And stay out of things you don't understand."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Soo Ah said, quieter but not retreating, "If I walk away from your life, then who's gonna help you ?"
He stared at her, jaw tense. "That's not your concern."
She swallowed the words she wanted to scream, turned away, and let out a bitter laugh.
"You don't need light, Ethan. You just want to burn alone."
She walked past him without waiting for permission.
And Ethan stood there, alone again—just the way he preferred it.