20 (home)

The moment P’Tha left after dinner, Johan excused himself with a polite bow to Mae and Dad. His face was calm, but I knew better—the quiet way he walked, the stiffness in his shoulders—it wasn’t calm. It was boiling.

So of course, I trailed after him like a kitten. By the time I slipped into our room, he was standing by the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight.

“...Still sulking?” I asked softly, leaning against the doorframe with a teasing smile.

His head snapped toward me, eyes dark. “I don’t like him.”

I padded over, slow, playful, until I was close enough to tug at his sleeve. “Who? P’Tha?”

“You smiled at him,” he said, voice low. “Like… like he was someone important.” His gaze dropped, his fists curling slightly. “And when he tried to touch you—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply.

I tilted my head, pretending innocence. “So my iceberg is jealous?”

His eyes narrowed. “North—”

I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his, soft and quick, then pulled back just enough to nibble at his bottom lip, playful, testing.

His breath hitched. His whole body stiffened, then melted. “...brat,” he murmured, almost warning, almost pleading.

I grinned mischievously. “See? Not so scary when I bite back.”

For the first time since dinner, the corner of his lips twitched upward. His hands came up, gripping my waist firmly, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched.

“You…” He sighed, shaking his head. “You drive me insane.”

I nibbled his lip again, softer this time. “And you love me for it.”

He chuckled low, the sound warm against my skin. But then his hold tightened, his voice lowering. “Do you know why I hated you back then? When you first came to me because of that stupid dare?”

I blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden shift. “...Tell me.”

His eyes softened, but the storm never fully left. “Because I already knew how many people wanted you. How many smiled at you, chased you, admired you. And then you—” His jaw clenched, like it was hard to admit. “You came to me laughing, not even serious. Just a dare. Like I wasn’t worth being chosen for real.”

My chest squeezed.

I lifted my hand, cupping his face gently. “Johan…”

“I thought I wasn’t enough,” he confessed quietly. “That you’d get bored. That sooner or later, you’d realize you could have anyone.” His eyes searched mine, raw and vulnerable. “Anyone better.”

For once, I didn’t tease. I pressed my lips to his, slow and sure, nibbling softly before pulling back just enough to whisper against him, “Phi....You were the only one I wanted. The only one I’ll ever want.”

His breath shuddered out, the tension in his shoulders finally melting.

I smiled, brushing my nose against his. “So stop being jealous, hm? You already won. And you’re stuck with me.”

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine, and whispered, “Good. Because I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

And this time when I kissed him, nibbling gently at his lips, it wasn’t to tease or distract him.

It was to promise him.

The week slipped by before I could even blink.Every day had been filled—Mae fussing, Dad observing, Johan’s jealousy flaring up whenever P’Tha appeared, and me dragging Johan to all my childhood haunts, showing him pieces of myself I rarely let anyone see.

And then—just like that—our week was over.

Now we were standing at the doorway with packed bags. Mae fussed over me for the tenth time, straightening my jacket with watery eyes.

“You didn’t stay long enough,” she complained softly. “A week is nothing, North. I barely had time to cook for you properly.”

“Mae,” I groaned, hugging her tightly. “We’ll come back again soon, I promise.”

Johan stepped forward, bowing slightly. His voice was calm, steady, respectful. “Thank you for taking care of me, Mae. For everything.”

Her expression softened immediately as she took his hands warmly. “Take care of my baby, hm? He’s spoiled, but he feels too much inside. Don’t let him bottle it up.”

“Mae!” I protested, cheeks burning.

Johan only smiled faintly, his eyes unwavering. “I will. You don’t need to worry.” And the way he said it, unshakable, made my chest squeeze.

Dad was last. He put his hand on my shoulder, the other cupping my face briefly, studying me with those sharp eyes that were a little red. “Don’t skip meals. Don’t slack off. Call us.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Pa.”

Then he turned to Johan, gaze heavy but not unkind. “And you—”

Johan straightened instinctively, ready.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Dad’s lips. “You’ve proven enough already. Keep proving it.”

“I will,” Johan answered, no hesitation.

And just like that, we were off.

Mae waved until we were out of sight. Dad stood with his arms crossed, but his eyes lingered long after, until the corner swallowed us.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence. The countryside rolled past outside the window, the last threads of my childhood home slipping away behind me. I sighed, leaning back against the seat, stealing a glance at Johan.

His hands gripped the wheel in that calm, controlled way of his. Eyes fixed ahead. Jaw tight, too tight.

I reached over and slid my fingers over his free hand. “Already missing them?” I teased gently.

His gaze flicked toward me, just briefly, before softening. “No. Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

His thumb brushed slowly over the back of my hand, tracing circles. His voice was low, deliberate. “About how easily it felt like home there. With you.”

My chest ached in the best way. I leaned over impulsively, resting my head against his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but I caught the sharp inhale he tried to hide. Grinning mischievously, I tilted my face and playfully nibbled at his jaw.

He stiffened, then exhaled a small laugh. “Little brat.” His voice was warning, almost dangerous.

“What?” I mumbled innocently, lips grazing the edge of his skin. “We’re not at my parents’ house anymore. I can nibble you as much as I want now.”

The car swerved just a little before Johan steadied it. His jaw tightened. That smile—the one that was half frustration, half heat—curved his lips.

“You’re reckless,” he said lowly, almost to himself.

I tilted my head, grinning. “Or maybe you just like it.”

He finally looked at me then, a quick sideways glance. His eyes burned—dark, sharp, full of the restrained things he couldn’t say with Mae and Dad watching. “You really don’t know how dangerous you are to me, do you?”

My heart stumbled.

Johan’s fingers left the steering wheel for only a moment—just long enough to trail up my thigh, slow, firm, deliberate—before returning to the wheel. “Keep nibbling me like that, baby, and I’ll pull over right here.”

Heat flushed through me so fast I nearly choked on air. “H-Hey! We’re on the highway—”

His lips curved. “So?”

“Phi!”

His laugh was low, rich, vibrating through my bones. “Relax. I’ll behave. For now.”

I pouted, swatting at his arm weakly. “You’re not supposed to flirt while driving.”

“You’re not supposed to tempt me while I’m driving,” he countered smoothly, his hand squeezing mine tight before lifting it briefly to press against his lips.

My heart fluttered stupidly. I buried my face against his shoulder to hide my blush, muttering, “You’re dangerous.”

His thumb brushed my knuckles, warm and steady. “And you’re mine.”

The road stretched ahead of us, endless, but in that moment—with his voice low in my ear, his hand firm over mine, and my heart racing—I realized something.

Leaving my parents’ house didn’t feel like leaving home.Because home was right here. With him.