Dinner dissolved into soft laughter and the hush of silk against polished floors.
Plates cleared.
Voices thinned.
Something playful lingered in the air like a secret waiting to be told.
Then—
Halmoni clapped her hands once.
Bright.
Alive.
Eyes sparkling like she had just remembered something fun.
"Enough sitting," she declared. "Come. Entertainment!"
No one argued.
Not when she looked like that.
They followed her to the studio.
The doors opened—
and the piano sat there, quiet and expectant.
Halmoni walked in first, then turned sharply—
pointing.
"You."
Straight at—
Ji-Ah.
Ji-Ah blinked.
"…Me?"
"Yes, you," Halmoni said, already moving to a chair. "Play. Let's see if this house has taste."
A ripple of amusement passed through the room.
Ji-Ah walked to the piano.
Sat.
Her fingers hovered over the keys—
and something in her expression softened.
Like she had stepped into somewhere only she understood.
Across the room—
Ha-Joon picked up a guitar.
No announcement.
Just instinct.
Their eyes met.
A quiet signal passed between them.
Ji-Ah turned slightly.
"What would you like to hear?"
Halmoni leaned back, waving her hand with a grin.
"Surprise me."
Ji-Ah smiled faintly.
"Then… Still With You."
Across the room—
Min-Ji stiffened.
"…That song?" she said.
Ji-Ah looked at her.
Calm.
Too calm.
"You said you love it," Ji-Ah replied lightly. "You love K-pop."
A beat.
"Right?"
Min-Ji held her gaze.
Then smiled.
"Of course."
Min-Hyuk leaned back, amused.
"Perfect. Then you can sing."
Seo-Yeon smiled gently.
"That would be nice."
Voices followed.
Encouraging.
Expectant.
"Sing."
"Go on."
"You'll do well."
Even Madam watched closely.
Min-Ji's smile held—
but thinner now.
Tighter.
"I…" she started.
Paused.
Then—
a crack.
"I can't sing."
Silence.
Her jaw tightened.
"I can't."
The room shifted.
Min-Ji inhaled sharply, pulling out her phone.
"I'll show you."
She pressed play.
The recording filled the room—
a lullaby gone wrong.
Notes slipping.
Pitch uneven.
Something almost eerie in how it tried—and failed—to be soft.
Hae-In jumped forward.
"Okay—no—stop—"
She grabbed the phone and cut it off instantly.
"No more."
Silence dropped heavy.
Min-Ji stood there.
Still.
Face composed—
but her fingers trembled slightly at her side.
Halmoni didn't look at her again.
She turned instead—
to Ji-Ah.
"Can you sing?"
Ji-Ah met her gaze.
Steady.
"Yes."
And then—
Ha-Joon.
Quiet.
Certain.
"She can."
Min-Ji's head snapped slightly toward him.
He didn't look at her.
Ji-Ah turned back to the piano.
Sat straighter.
Ha-Joon stepped closer.
Adjusted his guitar.
Their eyes met briefly.
Ready?
She nodded.
Then—
music.
The piano breathed first.
Soft.
Gentle.
Like rain tapping against glass.
The guitar followed—
warm, steady, wrapping around her notes like it had always belonged there.
Then—
Ji-Ah's voice.
Low.
Clear.
Then rising—
rich, emotional, carrying something honest and unpolished in the best way.
The room stilled.
Seo-Yeon's eyes softened.
Min-Hyuk leaned forward without realizing.
Arisoo beamed.
Halmoni watched—
smiling slowly.
Proud.
Ha-Joon didn't look away.
Not once.
Min-Ji stood still.
Her smile—
gone.
Her nails pressed into her palm.
Hard.
Because this—
this wasn't supposed to happen.
Ji-Ah wasn't supposed to shine like this.
The last note faded.
Soft.
Lingering.
Silence.
Then—
clap.
Halmoni.
Bright.
Delighted.
"Yes!" she said, laughing lightly. "Now that is music!"
Madam followed with composed applause.
Arisoo clapped loudly.
"That was amazing!"
Min-Hyuk grinned.
"Okay, I'm impressed."
Seo-Yeon smiled warmly.
"You were beautiful."
Ji-Ah stood.
Bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
Simple.
Humble.
Across the room—
Min-Ji didn't move.
She stayed.
Watching.
Watching as the attention stayed on Ji-Ah.
As the room shifted around her.
Then—
voices faded.
People began to leave.
Madam sighed.
"You embarrassed her," she said quietly to Halmoni.
Min-Hyuk, still holding Seo-Yeon's hand, smirked.
"She's not embarrassed."
A glance toward Min-Ji.
"She's jealous."
Madam exhaled and left.
Arisoo grabbed Halmoni's hand.
"Come on, old lady. Sleep time. I'll massage your legs."
Halmoni scoffed.
"Who are you calling old lady?"
"You."
"…Shameless child."
But she went anyway.
One by one—
they disappeared.
Until—
three remained.
Ji-Ah.
Ha-Joon.
Min-Ji.
Ji-Ah turned to leave.
"Ji-Ah."
She stopped.
Ha-Joon stepped closer.
"You played well," he said.
"…Thank you."
A quiet pause.
"You still remember that song."
"…I do."
Another pause.
Softer now.
"Just like the title," he said.
"I'll still be here."
A breath.
"For you. When you're stressed."
Ji-Ah's heart stumbled.
He turned—
and walked away.
Silence.
Ji-Ah exhaled slowly.
Looked at the piano.
Behind her—
Min-Ji stood frozen.
Her eyes burned.
Her nails dug deeper into her palm.
Because she heard it.
Every word.
Every tone.
And for the first time—
her perfect composure cracked where no one could see.
Not embarrassment.
Something sharper.
Something louder.
Jealousy—
quietly catching fire.
---------------------
Morning arrived like it had something to prove.
Bright.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
At the Yoo-Na residence—
everything was pristine.
Too pristine.
The dining table was set with quiet perfection.
Porcelain.
Fresh fruit.
Tea steaming gently like nothing in this house had ever been thrown in anger.
But the air—
tight.
Yoo-Na sat stiffly, untouched breakfast in front of her.
Still in her silk robe, hair slightly messy like sleep hadn't dared stay long.
Her jaw?
Set.
Eyes?
Cold.
Across from her—
Mrs. Han, elegant as always, slicing fruit with surgical precision.
"You will get ready early today," Mrs. Han said, not looking up. "The Kim family is hosting."
Yoo-Na didn't respond.
Mrs. Han continued anyway.
"They invited us. We will attend."
A small pause.
"They are family."
That word lingered.
Heavy.
Yoo-Na finally scoffed softly.
"Family?"
Mrs. Han's knife paused mid-cut.
"Yes," she said calmly. "Whether we like it or not."
Yoo-Na leaned back slightly, arms folding.
"I don't like it."
"I'm aware," Mrs. Han replied dryly.
A beat.
Then—
her tone sharpened just slightly.
"I am still very displeased with Madam Kim."
Yoo-Na's eyes flashed.
"So am I," she said quickly.
Then, firm—
almost like a promise to herself—
"Ha-Joon is not marrying that girl."
Silence.
"I won't let it happen."
At that exact moment—
footsteps.
The door opened.
Mr. Han walked in.
Tall.
Calm.
Presence like warm sunlight slipping through a cold room.
Not loud.
Not sharp.
But grounding.
His shirt sleeves were rolled slightly, tie loosened just enough to say he valued comfort over appearance at home.
His eyes—
kind.
Observant.
He took one look at the table—
and smiled faintly.
"Morning," he said gently.
Neither woman returned it fully.
He sighed lightly, walking over and pouring himself tea.
"I assume I missed something dramatic."
"No," Mrs. Han said smoothly.
"Yes," Yoo-Na said at the same time.
Mr. Han chuckled under his breath.
He took a sip.
Then—
casually—
"I heard Halmoni arrived yesterday."
Yoo-Na's head snapped toward him.
"She did?" she asked.
Mr. Han nodded.
"So I was told."
Yoo-Na's expression darkened instantly.
"I was here," she said, frustration slipping through. "No one told me."
Mrs. Han placed her knife down.
"That is exactly why I am upset."
A quiet pause.
"But regardless," she continued, regaining her composure, "we are going today."
Yoo-Na looked away.
Tension sharp in her shoulders.
Mrs. Han's voice softened—
but only slightly.
"You will behave appropriately."
Yoo-Na let out a quiet breath.
Something between a laugh and irritation.
"We'll see."
Mr. Han watched her for a moment.
Then said gently—
"Yoo-Na."
She glanced at him.
"Don't start a war before breakfast settles," he said, a hint of humor in his tone.
That almost—
almost—
pulled a smile from her.
Almost.
Instead, she stood.
"I'm going to get ready."
She paused at the doorway.
Just for a second.
Then, without turning—
"He's not marrying her."
And then—
she left.
The room fell quiet again.
Mrs. Han exhaled slowly.
Mr. Han took another sip of tea.
"…This party," he murmured.
"Should be interesting."