Chapter 82

Beth woke slowly, as if surfacing from deep underwater—each sensation arriving one at a time, soft and slow and golden.

The first thing she registered was warmth. The sheets were tangled around her bare legs, silky and faintly cool in the shadowed dips where her skin didn't touch. The comforter was still heavy over her hips, cocooning her in the lingering heat of a second body. Her own skin smelled like eucalyptus and vanilla—last night's candle, extinguished sometime between breathless laughter and the slide of Changbin's mouth over her collarbone.

The second thing she noticed was the purring.

It was low and steady, vibrating like a content engine somewhere above her head. Then something shifted against her scalp—a small, furry body stretching lazily—and let out a sudden sneeze that sent a tickle down the back of her neck.

She blinked her eyes open groggily and squinted upward.

Midnight.

The black cat was perched like a crown across her head, limbs draped over her messy bun, tail flicking in rhythmic satisfaction. He looked entirely pleased with himself, yellow eyes gleaming with smug amusement as if he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked.

Beth groaned softly, voice hoarse from sleep. "Dude, seriously?"

Midnight blinked. Then sneezed again.

She shifted, trying not to laugh, and nudged him off with one hand. He rolled to the side with an offended mrrp, landing beside her and immediately curling into the crook of her neck like a purring scarf. She gave up and let him stay, her arm draping over his warm, vibrating body as she exhaled into the quiet morning air.

That's when she noticed the smell.

Maple syrup.

And just like that, a sound followed: the soft, unmistakable rhythm of little feet padding down the hallway. Then a deeper set—slow, steady. A giggle. A hushed whisper. The creak of the floorboard outside the bedroom.

A gentle knock.

Beth smiled into the pillow, heart blooming wide and slow. "Come in."

The door opened with a click—and there they were.

Her whole world.

Cassie burst in first, barefoot and beaming in mismatched pajamas—one sleeve bunched to the elbow, the other hanging loose, her hair a chaotic halo of sleep-fluffed curls. She carried a tray like it was a crown jewel, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in utter concentration.

"Mommy! We made pancakes!"

Changbin followed behind her, shirtless and rumpled in the best possible way. He wore only a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, curls slightly damp like he'd rinsed off the night before. He carried a second tray—this one balancing a steaming mug of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and what looked suspiciously like a mimosa. His eyes locked onto Beth's, warm and adoring.

But Beth barely heard them.

Because the moment she sat up, the sheets slid down to her waist—reminding her, vividly, that she was still completely naked under the covers.

Midnight groaned in protest and slinked off her shoulder with a dramatic thump, retreating to the foot of the bed like a wronged prince.

That's when she saw it.

Folded neatly at the foot of the bed: one of Changbin's oversized hoodies—deep navy, soft and worn and clearly stolen from his studio rotation—and a pair of black cotton shorts. Her size.

Her size.

And thank God for that—because as Cassie bounded forward, Beth reflexively clutched the sheets tighter to her chest, heart leaping with a flicker of panic.

Changbin noticed instantly.

He hesitated for only a second, shifting the drink tray to one hand before crossing the room in two quick steps. His gaze dipped briefly to where she gripped the comforter, her shoulders tense beneath it, then to the hoodie and shorts he'd laid out with quiet foresight.

He set the tray down on the nightstand, careful and unhurried, and gave her a small, knowing smile. Then he reached for the sweatshirt.

Beth's eyes softened with gratitude.

Without a word, Changbin crouched beside the bed, gathering the oversized hoodie in his hands like it was something sacred. He lifted it carefully, brushing her hair back from her shoulder with one hand before holding it open for her, wide and warm and protective.

"Arms up, baby," he murmured.

She exhaled, a breath of relief more than anything, and let go of the sheet just long enough to slip one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. The inside of the hoodie was blissfully soft, still faintly warm from the dryer, and it dropped down to mid-thigh like a blanket made just for her.

Changbin tugged it into place gently, fingers brushing over her hips with absent affection before rising to cup the back of her neck, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"All good," he whispered.

Beth glanced up just in time to see Cassie's curls bouncing as she clambered up onto the bed with her tray.

Midnight hissed at the sudden intrusion, offended for the second time that morning, and leapt gracefully to the dresser with a thump of protest.

Beth laughed softly, heart full to bursting.

"Mommy, look!" Cassie beamed, wobbling slightly as she settled the tray into her lap. "Heart-shaped pancakes! I helped stir! And Daddy let me do the whipped cream, but—" she held up a single sticky finger, eyes wide with scandal, "it kinda exploded."

Beth glanced down at the plate.

The pancakes were golden and warm, uneven hearts stacked proudly beneath a swirl of whipped cream that had absolutely tried to flee the plate. Strawberries had been arranged in a little smiley face, though one eye had slipped slightly. There was syrup pooled in the corner and a pink plastic fork stabbed through the top like a flag of victory.

It was perfect.

She bit her lip, grinning as Changbin eased onto the bed beside her, looping an arm around her back and handing her the coffee.

"You should stay in here until I get the kitchen cleaned up. She wasn't kidding about the explosion."

Beth gave a soft laugh, still sleep-warm and glowing, as she accepted the coffee from Changbin's hand. Their fingers brushed, and he smiled like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

Cassie was already shifting in closer, her tray balanced precariously across Beth's lap, syrup threatening a mutiny.

"Mommy," she said, voice suddenly very serious, "you wanna know a secret?"

Beth raised an eyebrow, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. "Always."

Cassie leaned in close, one hand cupped around the side of her mouth like she was about to reveal a state secret. Her eyes sparkled. "Daddy picked me up from Hana's this morning. Just him."

Beth blinked, surprised—and then something in her chest fluttered.

"Oh yeah?" she murmured, setting her cup on the nightstand so she could give Cassie her full attention. "How was that?"

Cassie's whole body bounced with delight. "So good! He was already there when I woke up! And he brought my sea turtle slippers so I didn't have to walk on the cold floor, and then—" she paused dramatically, arms thrown wide for emphasis—"he gave me the biggest hug ever. Like this!"

She lunged forward, wrapping her arms tight around Beth's middle in a fierce little tackle, the tray jostling dangerously as syrup sloshed toward the edge of the plate.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, jellybean," Changbin said, catching the tray before it could topple. "Let's not wear the pancakes, okay?"

Cassie giggled and crawled back into Beth's side like a koala, still grinning. "I told him I missed him, and he said he missed me more. And then I said nuh-uh, I missed him more. And then we both said it at the same time and laughed." She looked up at Beth with eyes as bright as the morning sun. "And he let me pick the music in the car."

Beth's throat tightened.

She looked over at Changbin, who was watching her with that soft, quiet expression that made her feel like the only thing in the world that mattered. He didn't say anything—just reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers trailing warmly along her cheek.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

Beth nodded. She couldn't quite trust her voice yet.

Instead, she kissed Cassie's forehead and pulled her in tighter, one arm wrapped around her little girl, the other around the man who had gone out of his way to make their morning easy. Beautiful. Whole.

Midnight chose that moment to launch himself back onto the bed with a sassy thump, trotting up between the pillows before circling once and plopping down right beside Cassie. He stared at the pancake stack with naked disdain, then stretched luxuriously and began to groom his tail like nothing in the world was worthy of his attention.

Cassie giggled again. "Midnight doesn't like pancakes. But he does like you, Mommy. And Daddy. Even though Daddy snores."

Beth snorted.

Changbin raised an eyebrow. "I do not snore."

Cassie and Beth answered in perfect unison: "Yes, you do."

He threw his hands up, grinning. "Great. Betrayed by both of you before I've even had breakfast."

"Oh, what time is it?" Beth asked, looking around for her phone.

Changbin glanced over his shoulder and reached for it on the nightstand. "Almost nine."

Beth froze, a groan catching in her throat. "Shit."

Cassie gasped. "Mommy!"

"Sorry," Beth muttered automatically, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. "I have a meeting at Golden Stag. I was supposed to go over final logistics for the event this weekend. I completely forgot."

Changbin handed her the phone with a calm that felt like a balm. "You've still got time. Your meeting's at ten, right?"

She nodded, pulling the sweatshirt tighter around herself. "Yeah, but I was supposed to review the guest list and final vendor confirmations before I got there."

"You want me to make you a to-go mug?" he offered, already starting to stand.

Beth reached for his wrist before he could leave the bed. "Can you... stay? Just five more minutes?"

His expression softened. "Always."

Cassie, apparently sensing the moment shift, took it upon herself to start cutting the pancakes with serious concentration. "I'll share with you, Mommy," she said proudly. "But you gotta eat fast. So you don't be late."

Beth smiled despite herself. "Thanks, baby. I'll be quick."

As she ate a few bites—syrup-sticky and a little uneven in texture but made with so much love it almost made her cry—she opened her inbox and quickly scrolled through flagged messages. Final floor plan layouts. Revised budget numbers. An RSVP list that had ballooned overnight, thanks to Alex's new engagement post going viral again.

God, she needed a shower.

And real clothes.

And mascara.

She exhaled through her nose, tension starting to creep back into her shoulders—but then Changbin shifted closer again, warm and solid and calm beside her. One hand landed at the small of her back, massaging gently over the hoodie.

"You've got this," he said quietly. "Just go in. Be a boss. Then come home and we'll all take a nap on the couch together."

Beth laughed, leaning into his touch. "You're way too good at this whole supportive boyfriend thing."

He smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yeah? Maybe I should come to the meeting too. Sit in the back and glare at people who try to mess with your budget."

Cassie gasped. "You can't glare, Daddy. You have smile lines."

Changbin blinked. "I do not."

Beth laughed so hard she choked on a strawberry.

Cassie looked between them, pleased as pie. "Okay, but if Mommy's going to work—can I go with you?"

"If mom is okay with it. We have dance practice today so I don't see why she couldn't come watch and maybe learn a little."

Beth paused, mid-chew, as both sets of eyes turned to her with matching expressions of hope and mischief.

Cassie sat cross-legged on the bed like a tiny queen at court, syrup dotting the corner of her mouth, curls bouncing wildly with every breath of anticipation. Her hands gripped her plastic fork like a scepter, and her entire body vibrated with the desperate energy of a child who had already rehearsed her argument in her head twice. Maybe three times.

"Please?" she begged, voice pitching into the range only small children and desperate puppies could achieve. "I'll be so good. I promise. I'll sit quiet like a sea turtle."

Beth blinked, chewing slowly. "Sea turtles aren't... really known for being quiet."

"Yes huh!" Cassie shot back instantly, brandishing her syrup-coated fork like a pointer in a TED Talk. Her eyes went wide with the righteous certainty of a four-year-old armed with half a dozen nature documentaries. "They go underwater and they don't make a peep! They just swim and look majestic!"

Changbin was already shaking with silent laughter behind Beth's shoulder, trying to bury it in her hoodie's fabric. He pressed a kiss to her neck to cover it, but his body shook with barely-contained mirth.

"I mean," he murmured against her skin, "she's got you there."

Beth gave him a long-suffering side-eye. "You're not helping."

He smirked into her shoulder. "I think it's a great idea."

Beth sighed and turned her full attention back to Cassie, who was now bouncing slightly in place, curls haloing her syrup-streaked face like some kind of sugar-coated cherub.

"Okay," she relented, setting her fork down and wiping her hands on the napkin with mock seriousness. "You can go with him—but you have to listen, and no distracting anyone. That means no spinning in circles during choreography."

Cassie gasped like she'd just been knighted. "Yes! I'll be a very focused sea turtle! A stealth turtle!"

Midnight let out a disdainful meow from the foot of the bed, his tail twitching with dramatic flair. Apparently, he didn't appreciate being excluded from this morning's plans.

Cassie turned toward him solemnly, brow furrowing with a newfound sense of responsibility. "You stay here and protect the pancakes, okay? No one eats Mommy's leftovers unless it's an emergency."

The cat responded by flopping sideways on the bed in exaggerated protest, then curled into a tight spiral and draped his tail over one eye like a movie star refusing press interviews.

Beth chuckled under her breath and finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The oversized hoodie fell past her thighs, still infused with the faint scent of Changbin's cologne—warm cedar, clean laundry, and something uniquely him. She padded toward the bathroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes with the heel of her hand, then paused in the doorway for one last look.

Her bed looked like a love letter written in chaos.

The sheets were tangled, the comforter kicked halfway down, one corner draped across the footboard like a forgotten promise. Crumbs dotted the mattress from an enthusiastic but haphazard breakfast, and the tray of pancakes sat askew, half-eaten, one strawberry clinging stubbornly to the rim. A dramatic black cat lounged in the center like he owned the lease, tail twitching with disdain for the syrup crusting his fur.

And yet—despite the mess, or maybe because of it—it glowed.

Soft morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, painting everything in gold. The air still held the scent of vanilla and sleep, the warmth of bodies that had loved and laughed and fought to hold onto joy. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't curated.

It was lived-in.

It was loud.

It was full of syrup and secrets and tiny, jellyfish-obsessed declarations.

And it was hers.

She carried that feeling—messy, golden, whole—into the shower. Let the water wash over her while the memory of Changbin's voice pressed against her skin like another kind of warmth. She carried it into the black dress she chose without thinking, the one that hugged her waist and skimmed her thighs like it knew what kind of day she needed. Into the blazer she barely had time to steam but wore anyway, smoothing it down with determined fingers. Into the flick of eyeliner sharp enough to hold her own in a boardroom. Into the coffee she poured into her thermos, swirling in cinnamon and cream. Into the soft gloss she smeared across her mouth, catching just a little light.

She carried all of it.

Into her heels.

Into her bag.

Into the hallway where her real reason for getting out of bed stood waiting.

Beth paused mid-step, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her work tote, her mind racing through its usual morning mantra. Laptop. Wallet. Phone. USB backup. Mascara—barely. Lip gloss—glossy. Breakfast—partial. Nerves—settling. Confidence—borrowed. Heart—

Standing right in front of her.

Cassie was twirling in slow circles by the front door, her backpack bouncing with every spin. It was covered in jellyfish stickers—some carefully applied, others crinkled like they'd lost a fight with gravity. She was humming some mutant hybrid of a sea shanty and Baby Shark, her curls bouncing like wildflowers around her face.

Just behind her stood Changbin, shoulder braced casually against the wall, something hidden behind his back and a familiar glint in his eye.

Beth narrowed hers. "What is that?"

He grinned. "A bribe."

He pulled out a small canvas tote, her initials stitched across the front in seafoam green, and a tall thermal mug still whispering steam like an invitation. He held them both out like offerings to a goddess.

Beth took the bag first, eyebrows lifting as she peeked inside.

There were two neatly packed containers: one holding sliced strawberries, mango, and grapes nestled between folds of wax paper; the other containing a quinoa salad she vaguely remembered mentioning during a sleepy dinner two nights ago. A tiny, lidded cup of lemon vinaigrette was tucked into the corner, and at the very bottom, a folded piece of notepaper peeked out—her name scrawled in thick purple marker, the "B" backwards, and a doodle beside it that might have been a jellyfish or an alien wearing a crown.

Beth blinked, throat tightening. "Did she draw this?"

Changbin leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her cheek. "She did. I only supervised the sticker portion."

Beth reached for the coffee next. The lid was snug. The smell hit her first—bold roast, cream, cinnamon. He remembered.

"For lunch," he said, quieter now. "I know you've got a packed day. And the coffee's... y'know. Drinkable. Unlike whatever they brew in your break room that tastes like regret and old cardboard."

She huffed, the sound more breath than laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," he murmured, voice curling around her like silk.

And then, without waiting for a retort, he stepped in.

One arm slid around her waist and drew her close, until the front of her dress brushed against his hoodie, until the steam of her coffee fogged faintly between them. Her bag slipped a little on her shoulder. Her breath caught.

He kissed her.

Thoroughly.

No-holds-barred. No just-one-for-the-road. It was not the kind of kiss you gave your partner on a rushed weekday morning—it was the kind of kiss you remembered in meetings, the kind that lived behind your eyelids and echoed in your ribcage.

His mouth moved slow and certain over hers, his other hand cupping the side of her neck like he was trying to memorize the shape of her pulse. She leaned into it, let herself fall for one long second, her free hand rising to splay against his chest. Her lashes fluttered closed.

She forgot about spreadsheets.

She forgot about RSVPs.

She forgot her name for a second.

When they finally broke apart, her lips tingled and her coffee had gone a little colder—but she didn't care. He rested his forehead against hers, breath warm and even, and whispered—

"Go be brilliant."

Beth opened her eyes, dazed and bright. "You really are gonna ruin me."

He smiled, barely more than a breath. "That's the plan."

And from somewhere behind them came a tiny, scandalized voice: "Ew! Grown-up kissing!"

Beth turned toward the sound, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. Cassie was standing by the door with her hands on her hips, a single curl stuck to her forehead, looking utterly betrayed.

Beth gave her a wink. "Someday, you'll like it too."

"Doubt it," Cassie muttered, marching toward the hallway.

Beth laughed—and then, with her heart in one hand and her coffee in the other, stepped out the front door and into the day.