|OURS, STILL|*

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Y/n heard the familiar sound of the gate creaking open, followed by the low hum of Namjoon’s car pulling into the driveway.

Her heart pounded.

Everything was ready.

Candles glowed across the living room, casting a golden warmth. Soft music played in the background, and the scent of freshly cooked dinner lingered in the air. She had spent hours preparing his favorite dishes, even wearing the soft ivory dress he once told her made her look like a dream.

When the door opened, Namjoon stepped inside, suitcase in hand, brow furrowed—until his eyes met hers.

She smiled softly, trying to hold herself together.

“Welcome home, Joon,” she whispered.

Namjoon blinked, stunned for a moment. Then a smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his bag and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I missed you,” he murmured into her hair. “So much.”

Y/n clutched him tighter, burying her face in his chest, feeling his warmth finally return to her.

Dinner was perfect. Their laughter felt genuine. Their conversation flowed like it used to.

But Namjoon was too emotionally intuitive not to notice the tremble in her hands when she refilled his glass… or the way her eyes lingered on him longer than usual… like she was afraid of losing him.

................................................

After dinner, they sat together by the fireplace, wrapped under a blanket. Namjoon rested his head against hers, but after a long silence, he finally asked—

“Y/n… is there something you want to tell me?”

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled slightly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because everything tonight is perfect… but you’re not. I can feel it. You’ve been quiet in a different way.”

Tears welled in her eyes instantly.

“I—I need you to promise me something first,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please don’t get angry. Please just listen first…”

Namjoon turned to face her, worry settling in his gaze. “Okay.”

She took a deep breath—then everything spilled out. The alcohol. The kiss. Her confusion. The guilt. How it had been her fault. How Yoongi stopped it from going any further. How she hadn’t touched her phone since that night because she couldn’t face herself.

And through it all, Namjoon just… listened.

Quiet. Still. Eyes unreadable.

When she finally broke down into sobs, Namjoon reached out and cupped her face gently.

“I… I understand,” he said quietly. “But I need a little time to think.”

Her heart cracked.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t storm out.

But his calm was worse.

Namjoon stood, gently kissed her forehead, and walked out of the room without another word.

....................................................

Y/n sat on their bed for hours, staring at the door. She kept wiping her tears with the sleeves of his old hoodie she had changed into.

By midnight, she gave up and lay on his side of the bed, curled up, sobbing softly until exhaustion stole her into sleep.

..................................................

The click of the door startled her awake sometime past 3 a.m.

Namjoon walked in quietly, his silhouette tall and composed. His eyes were red—but calm.

“Namjoon…” she sat up, heart racing again.

He didn’t speak immediately.

Instead, he walked toward her, sat on the edge of the bed, and held her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For walking out like that.”

Y/n’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t,” he said softly. “You told me the truth… when you could’ve hidden it. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

She blinked. “You’re not angry?”

He swallowed. “Was I hurt? Yes. But I trust you, Y/n. That kiss… that moment—it’s not bigger than what we have. What we’ve built.”

Y/n stared at him, speechless, as his fingers gently wiped away her tears.

“I love you. More than anything,” he whispered. “And thank you… for being honest. For choosing me, again.”

“I only ever loved you,” she whispered back. “I’ll never let a mistake like that happen again.”

Namjoon leaned in, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, then her lips—slow and trembling at first, but building with the desperation of all the days they’d been apart… and all the fear of what they almost lost.

He kissed her like she was air. Like she was the only thing keeping him sane.

Their kisses grew more heated—more raw.

Namjoon gently laid her back against the pillows, his hands brushing over her sides with the kind of reverence that made her breath hitch.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he whispered into her neck, voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ll never leave you like that again.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she whispered, fingers tangling in his hair. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.”

He kissed her again, deeper, more passionately. Like he was claiming her all over again.

Clothes were discarded, breathless moans filled the room, and their hands moved with knowing desperation—tender, but fierce. Intimate and aching.

He worshipped her like she was breakable.

She held him like she never wanted him to leave.

And when they finally lay tangled under the sheets, breathless and bare, Namjoon cradled her against his chest.

“I love you, Y/n. Nothing will change that. Not a mistake. Not a moment. Nothing.”

Y/n’s voice was a whisper against his skin.

“I’ll earn that trust every day. I promise.”

And in that moment—wrapped in love, forgiveness, and the quiet after the storm—everything felt whole again.

.....................................................

The café was nearly empty.

A soft jazz tune played in the background. The smell of roasted beans filled the air.

Yoongi sipped his iced Americano lazily as he slouched back in the booth, looking up when he noticed the tall, very serious figure entering through the glass doors.

Namjoon.

Black coat. Cold eyes. Jaw tight.

“Damn,” Yoongi muttered to himself. “Here comes the national threat.”

Namjoon walked over without saying a word and slid into the seat across from him, his hands resting calmly on the table—but Yoongi could tell by the flicker in his eye that calm was an illusion.

“Yo,” Yoongi said casually. “Want me to order you something, or should I just get the check before you flip the table on me?”

Namjoon didn’t even blink. He leaned forward slightly.

“We need to talk. About that night.”

Yoongi nodded slowly. “Yeah, I figured this wasn’t a social call.”

Namjoon’s tone was low. Controlled. But deadly serious.

“You kissed her.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “She kissed me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Well it kinda is, if we’re pointing fingers—”

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighed and held up both hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. Protective husband mode activated.”

Namjoon leaned closer. “I’m not here to argue. I just want to make this clear: I trust Y/n. I even trust you. But don’t mistake that for leniency.”

Yoongi blinked. “Did you just use the word leniency on me like we’re in a courtroom?”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened. “If you ever develop feelings for her…”

Yoongi choked on his coffee. “What?”

“I said—”

“Oh no, I heard you. I'm just stunned. Do you really think I want to compete with you? You literally look like a Calvin Klein campaign every day and speak like a damn philosopher. I don’t have the stamina for that.”

Namjoon gave him a cold glare.

Yoongi, unfazed, continued dramatically, “And let’s not forget the fact that Y/n looks at you like you created the moon. I’m just her emotionally damaged, grumpy food buddy.”

Namjoon didn’t laugh. But Yoongi could see the twitch in his cheek.

“I’m serious, Yoongi,” Namjoon said, voice lower now. “You’re the only man I ever let get close to her. Don’t make me regret that.”

Yoongi tilted his head. “You think I don’t know my place?”

“I think you forget boundaries when you’re drunk.”

Yoongi groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I spent half the morning chanting ‘you are not Namjoon, you are not Namjoon’ to myself in the mirror.”

That, finally, cracked something. Namjoon let out a short, breathy laugh despite himself.

“She really thought you were me?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Bro. She called me Joonie mid-kiss and I nearly disintegrated from secondhand guilt. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Namjoon exhaled through a small smile, then looked away, eyes softer.

“I’m not trying to be unreasonable. It’s just... she’s everything to me.”

Yoongi nodded sincerely now, the teasing gone.

“I know. And for what it’s worth, I’d never hurt her. Not even accidentally. That night—it was a dumb mistake. But I’d cut off my own foot before I let it happen again.”

Namjoon stared at him for a long moment, then gave a short nod. “Good.”

“But—” Yoongi grinned. “If you ever screw up and she dumps you...”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes.

Yoongi chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Kidding, kidding. Relax. Your possessiveness is showing, President Kim.”

As Yoongi stood up to leave, he clapped Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Go home to your woman. And tell her to stop bossing me around in my own kitchen.”

Namjoon, finally cracking a smile, muttered, “She keeps you fed. You owe her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi said as he walked off, waving over his shoulder. “But next time she wants to cook, I’m making her sign a 'no wine, no kissing, no identity confusion' contract.”

Namjoon let out a rare laugh.

......................................................

The sun dipped beneath the Seoul skyline, casting a warm golden glow across the living room where Y/n and Namjoon were curled up together on the couch. Her legs draped over his lap, one of his hands lazily tracing circles on her thigh while the other held a half-finished book he hadn’t turned a page of in an hour.

Y/n laughed as she scrolled through memes on her phone. “You seriously look like a cat. Lounging. Half asleep. Zero worries.”

Namjoon smirked, tossing the book aside. “That’s rich coming from the woman who’s been lying here for two hours watching me not read.”

“I’m the CEO of relaxation, thank you very much.”

Namjoon leaned in with a slow grin. “My CEO, actually.”

He kissed her nose, which made her giggle—and he was about to kiss her properly when—

“HEY! PARTY PEOPLE, WHERE ARE YOU?”

The front door burst open, and Hoseok marched in with the energy of an earthquake.

Y/n and Namjoon sat up with identical expressions of panic.

“Uh…” Namjoon blinked. “What party?”

Hoseok stopped in his tracks. “Don’t tell me you forgot. Don’t even joke.”

Y/n gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait—TONIGHT is your success party?!”

“YES!” Hoseok groaned. “The one we’ve been planning for weeks?!”

They both turned to each other in perfect sync and accused:

“YOU were supposed to remind me!”

“I thought you set an alarm!” Namjoon barked.

“I thought you were handling the schedule now, Mr. Responsible Project Leader!”

Hoseok just stared at them. “Seriously… How are you two functioning adults?”

“Debatable,” Y/n muttered under her breath.

“You’ve got thirty minutes,” Hoseok announced. “If you’re not at the venue by then, I’m sending in a SWAT team.”

He stormed out, leaving behind a gust of cold air and chaos.

...................................................

After a whirlwind of chaos, Y/n stood in front of the mirror adjusting her dress—a sleek black off-shoulder gown that hugged her body perfectly.

“Okay. Ready.” She turned to Namjoon—only to catch him frozen by the door, mouth slightly parted, eyes locked on her.

“What?” she teased, raising a brow. “Are you just going to stare or—?”

Namjoon blinked like he just snapped out of a trance.

“You can’t wear that.”

Y/n tilted her head, mock offended. “Excuse me?”

He walked over, slowly, like he was hypnotized.

“I mean—you can. But I’m warning you, if you keep looking like that, I’m canceling this entire party and locking the doors.”

Y/n smirked. “Tempting. But I spent two hours on this look, so we’re going.”

Namjoon wrapped his arms around her from behind, lips grazing her neck. “You drive me insane.”

“I know,” she said smugly. “And I love it.”

Just as his hands started roaming down her sides, her breath hitched. “Namjoon…”

“Mmm?”

“We’ll be late…”

“Worth it,” he murmured, lips brushing dangerously close.

But she turned around and gently pushed him away. “You’re not getting me out of this dress until after the party.”

Namjoon groaned dramatically. “This is torture.”

Y/n winked. “Good. Now let’s go.”

...................................................

The venue was classy and buzzing—string lights hung across the garden space, jazz music played live in the background, and every major investor, executive, and industry bigwig was present.

Namjoon and Hoseok were immediately surrounded.

“Mr. Kim, congratulations!”

“You two really pulled off the impossible with this project!”

“You should’ve seen the stock surge after your pitch!”

Y/n stood beside Namjoon, radiant, her hand tucked into his arm as she smiled politely at the guests.

Namjoon, even while shaking hands and thanking people, kept sneaking glances at her—like she was the real highlight of the night.

Hoseok nudged him. “Dude. Focus. They’re complimenting you.”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “Right. Yes, thank you. Appreciate it.”

Hoseok smirked and muttered under his breath, “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not just making out in a closet right now.”

Namjoon elbowed him subtly. “We almost did—until someone barged in.”

Hoseok grinned like the menace he was. “And you’re welcome.”

Y/n turned slightly. “What are you two whispering about?”

Namjoon straightened like a schoolboy. “Nothing!”

Y/n narrowed her eyes playfully. “Uh-huh.”

The night continued with more applause, champagne, and compliments—but Namjoon never let go of Y/n’s hand, not for a second.

Because success meant nothing if she wasn’t right beside him.

☆TO BE CONTINUED☆°•○●○•°•○●○•°☆°•○●○•°•○●○•°