As Taeyang drove, the usual comfortable silence in the car felt replaced by a buzzing anticipation within him. He headed straight for a high-end jewelry store, the kind with hushed tones and security guards that made every purchase feel like a significant event. He wasn't one to hesitate, not when it came to her. This wasn't a whim; it was a decision years in the making, solidified by every shared laugh, every quiet moment, every glance that spoke volumes between them.
Walking past the glittering display cases, the soft, diffused light making diamonds sparkle like captured stars, his eyes scanned the myriad of rings. Some were too flashy, adorned with intricate designs that felt out of place for Hana's understated elegance. Others were too plain, lacking the subtle spark that mirrored her spirit. He moved from one display to another, a focused intensity in his gaze, ignoring the hovering sales associate for a moment, as he needed to feel the connection himself.
Then, his gaze snagged on it. A silver band, sleek and simple, yet possessing an undeniable grace. A single, radiant stone, not ostentatious, but catching the light with a quiet brilliance. It wasn't the biggest diamond in the store, nor the most expensive, but it resonated with something deeply personal. It was perfect. Just like her. Elegant, strong, and with a hidden luminescence that drew you in.
"You have a good eye," the shopkeeper, a woman with kind eyes and an air of quiet sophistication, commented, recognizing the moment of connection. She carefully opened the glass case, retrieving the ring with white-gloved hands and presenting it to him on a velvet cushion. "Elegant yet timeless."
Taeyang took the ring, the cool metal a surprising weight in his palm. He turned it between his fingers, watching the small stone flash. His heart tightened, a surge of emotion so profound it almost stole his breath. This wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it was a promise, a future, a culmination of everything he felt for Hana. He could almost picture it on her slender finger, gleaming softly as she laughed, or as she reached for his hand. He bought it without a second thought, the transaction feeling both incredibly ordinary and utterly momentous.
He left the jewelry store, the small, heavy velvet box tucked securely in his inner jacket pocket, a tangible representation of his resolve. His heart was pounding, a joyful, thrumming rhythm against his ribs. This was it. He was going to do it. The day had started with a strange lightness, a premonition, and now it felt undeniably, exhilaratingly real.
But a proposal wasn't complete without flowers, not for Hana. She appreciated beauty, not extravagance. He needed something that spoke of his deepest affection, not just a grand gesture.
He made his way to a nearby flower shop, drawn in by the faint, sweet scent of fresh blooms that wafted out onto the bustling street. Stepping inside was like entering a vibrant, fragrant sanctuary. Baskets overflowed with riotous colors, bold reds, sunny yellows, serene blues, and soft purples. His eyes scanned the vibrant displays, but he already knew what he wanted. He'd known for years, tucked away in the quiet corners of his mind.
Hana's favorite roses. But not just any roses.
He chose a bouquet of soft pink and white roses, their petals delicate yet full, each bloom a promise. The pink spoke of admiration and gentle affection, the white of purity and new beginnings. Together, they symbolized the quiet, steady love he had always carried for her, a love that had grown from friendship into something deep and unwavering.
As he watched the florist, a young woman with nimble fingers, carefully wrap the bouquet in an elegant pastel paper, tying it off with a delicate silk ribbon, he exhaled, a long, slow breath. Everything was falling into place. The ring, the flowers… the words.
Now, he just had to find the perfect moment to tell her. A moment that was as perfect as she was. He had to tell her before it was too late. An unspoken urgency tugged at him, a strange premonition that he couldn't quite shake.
The whole day went by with Jiwoon finding every opportunity to tease Hana, a relentless, playful barrage that kept her on edge. From sly remarks whispered close to her ear to casual touches, a hand brushing her arm as he passed, a shoulder bumping hers when they reached for the same document, he was omnipresent. Every time she tried to focus on her work, to bury herself in spreadsheets and reports, he would lean in just a little too close, drop a smug comment, or, worst of all, remind her of their little elevator incident.
"Oh, careful, Hana," he'd smirked earlier, his voice a low rumble, as she reached for a file on a high shelf, making her stretch. "Wouldn't want you tripping into my arms again. I'm not sure how much more my poor heart can take."
She had shot him a withering glare, her cheeks heating despite herself. "You're so annoying."
Jiwoon had simply grinned, a flash of white teeth. "And yet, you haven't pushed me away." He always had a comeback, always found a way to turn her annoyance into a victory.
By evening, Hana was utterly exhausted not from the usual demands of her workload, but from him. Every glance, every smirk, every stolen moment had left her flustered beyond reason. Her concentration had been shot. She'd made typos, reread sentences five times, and found herself constantly looking up, half-expecting his shadow to fall over her desk. The emotional toll was surprisingly heavy.
As she packed her things, sliding her laptop into its bag, Hana let out a deep sigh, a frustrated puff of air. She tried to shake off the lingering warmth of Jiwoon's teasing, the echo of his laughter, the image of his eyes sparkling with mischief. She wasn't supposed to feel this flustered. She was supposed to be immune to him, to his charm, to his blatant flirting. They were just friends, colleagues. Right?
Jiwoon, of course, was watching her struggle with way too much amusement. He was leaning lazily against the edge of her desk, his tall frame cutting a casual figure against the setting sun streaming through the office windows. He tilted his head, a question in his eyes. "You look tired. Too much work? Or was it me?"
Hana rolled her eyes, zipping her bag with a definitive snap. "You."
He chuckled, a rich, warm sound. "I'll take that as a compliment. Means I'm making an impact."
Just as she was about to fire back another witty (or not so witty) retort, her phone buzzed with a vibration that made her jump. It was Taeyang.
Taeyang: Where are you?
A small, genuine smile touched her lips. She quickly typed out a response, telling him to meet her at their usual street food stall nearby, a comforting, familiar rendezvous point.
"Wanna grab something to eat? Taeyang's coming too."
For a fleeting second, the teasing faded from Jiwoon's eyes, replaced by a flicker of genuine interest. His easy grin returned as he straightened up, pushing off her desk.
"Yeah, I could eat. Lead the way."
Hana rolled her eyes, but a sliver of relief went through her. Good. The company was good.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to head towards the elevators, expecting Jiwoon to follow at his usual leisurely pace. Instead, he grabbed her wrist, his fingers warm and firm around her skin, and started leading her toward the food stalls. His touch sent a surprisingly jolt through her, making her heart stutter. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt charged, especially after his day-long onslaught of subtle advances. She tried to pull away, but his grip was gentle but insistent, a quiet assertion of his presence. She blushed.
As they sat outside at the small street food stall, the air thick with the aroma of grilling meat and spicy noodles, the warm evening breeze made the atmosphere surprisingly cozy. The usual after-work crowd bustled around them, a comforting cacophony of chatter and sizzling woks. Hana was halfway through her favorite spicy rice cakes, savoring the familiar comfort food, when her phone buzzed again.
Taeyang: I'm almost there. Where exactly are you sitting?
She quickly answered the call, lifting her phone to her ear, a faint smile on her lips. "Yeah, Taeyang, we're just outside the food stall near the bookstore. You'll see us when you get here. I'm with Jiwoon." She added the last part.
Jiwoon, who had almost finished his plate of stir-fried noodles with impressive speed, leaned back in his seat, watching her with a knowing smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the street lamps. "Tell him to hurry up before I steal you away," he teased, his voice low enough that only she could hear, a playful challenge laced with a hint of genuine intent.
Hana shot him a glare, her foot playfully kicking his leg under the table. "Shut up," she muttered, trying to keep her tone light, but feeling her cheeks warm again. He was relentless.
Jiwoon only laughed, a soft, amused sound, shaking his head. "I'm just saying. You're good company. Anyone would be lucky to have you." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than strictly platonic, and for a fleeting second, his usual playful mask slipped, revealing something deeper, more sincere.
Hana sighed, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped at his words, the unwanted flutter in her chest.
Hana glanced up mid-bite, her chewing slowing as she spotted Taeyang standing across the footpath, a few yards away from the bustling food stalls. He was just there, still, his hands in his pockets, his posture rigid, almost hesitant. His expression was unreadable from this distance, shadowed by the streetlights, but there was an unusual intensity about him. He looked… purposeful, yet strangely vulnerable.
Without thinking, she stood up, a half-eaten rice cake forgotten. She walked a few steps back from the table, standing directly opposite him, a curious frown on her face. What was going on?
Jiwoon, finishing the last of his food with an exaggerated slurp, wiped his hands with a napkin and leaned back, his sharp eyes flicking between the two of them. He noticed the stiffness in Taeyang's posture, the way his gaze was fixed on Hana. Jiwoon's eyes, quick and analytical, registered the familiar slight furrow in Taeyang's brow, the way his shoulders were set. When Taeyang made eye contact with Jiwoon, Taeyang gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of his presence. Jiwoon returned it, his earlier playful smirk replaced by a subtle tension around his eyes. Jiwoon's focus shifted to Hana, a question in his unasked gaze.
Interesting. Jiwoon's casual smirk faltered slightly. Something was up. Taeyang wasn't just here to meet her for dinner; he was here for something bigger.
Jiwoon tapped his fingers on the table, his curiosity piqued, but a cold unease began to settle in his gut.
Taeyang suddenly darted across the street, not waiting for the pedestrian light, dodging a scooter with surprising agility. He stopped just in front of Hana, slightly breathless, his chest heaving faintly.
Hana frowned, stepping closer, concern etched on her face. "Hey, Taeyang. What's wrong? Why do you look so out of breath?"
Without a word, he reached out, taking her hand. His grip was firm but gentle, encompassing her fingers entirely. She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected intensity, by the sudden closeness. "Taeyang?" The question was a whisper.
Jiwoon, watching from his seat, felt a strange chill. He lowered his hand from his mouth, his casual demeanor slipping away. Something was off. Taeyang wasn't just here to meet her he had something heavy on his mind, a monumental weight that was pressing down on him. Jiwoon's heart gave a strange lurch. He knew what that weight likely was. He's going to propose.