The silence in the kitchen was shattered by the raw honesty in Rinwoo's voice. He turned off the water and finally turned to face Taekyun, his expression no longer neutral, but etched with a cold, painful clarity.
"How could I forget my past?" he said, his voice low and steady. "I pretended not to know you because I didn't want Jihoon to know anything about us. There is no 'us' anymore."
Taekyun flinched as if struck, but he absorbed the blow with a slow, resigned nod. The confirmation was a pain he had expected, but hearing it was a different kind of agony. He straightened his posture, a flicker of his old dignity returning to mask his devastation.
"I see," he whispered. "I'm... glad you're happy now. Truly." He meant it. The sight of a vibrant, healthy Rinwoo was worth any amount of his own suffering. "I should leave now."
Rinwoo's instinct was to let him go. To close the door and return to the peace of his new life. But a hook of curiosity, sharp and undeniable, was lodged in his heart. Where have you been? What have you been doing? How did you become this ghost? The questions screamed in his mind, but he bit them back.
"Let me see you off," Rinwoo said instead, a gesture of basic courtesy that felt monumental.
Taekyun simply nodded, not trusting his voice, and walked towards the door, Rinwoo following a few steps behind.
They descended the stairs to the café, which was quiet in the lull between the morning rush and lunch. The owner, Ms. Kim, was wiping down a table. When she looked up and saw Taekyun, her eyes widened in shock. She immediately dropped her cloth and bowed deeply, her demeanor shifting to one of utmost respect.
"Sir! Mr. Lee! What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and nervousness. She then glanced nervously at Rinwoo behind him. "Are... are you here to take Rinwoo-ssi back?"
Rinwoo froze mid-step. The question hung in the air, absurd and confusing. Take him back? Why would she ask that? Why was she bowing to Taekyun as if he were a visiting dignitary?
He looked at Taekyun, his confusion plain on his face. "What is she talking about?"
Taekyun didn't meet his eyes. He offered a stiff, almost imperceptible nod to Ms. Kim. "It's nothing. Thank you for your hard work." Without another word, he walked straight out of the café and disappeared into the flow of pedestrians on the street, leaving Rinwoo standing stunned in the middle of the quiet room.
Rinwoo turned slowly to face Ms. Kim, his heart beginning to pound with a dreadful, dawning understanding. "Noona," he said, his voice tight. "Why would you say that? Why would you think he was here to take me back?"
Ms. Kim wrung her hands, looking deeply uncomfortable. "Rinwoo-ssi... I... I thought you knew."
"Knew what?"
She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's the one. Mr. Lee... he's the real owner of this building. He bought it two years ago. He came to me and asked me to give you the job, the apartment... everything. He provided the extra funds for your salary himself. He said... he said you were mad at him and that this was a safe place for you to be. I thought... I thought he was here today because you'd made up."
The world tilted on its axis. The cozy apartment, the perfect job, the generous salary, the entire foundation of the new life he had been so proud of building with his own two hands—it was all a lie.
This is a fantastic and emotionally charged climax to their encounter. The push and pull, the raw confession, and the tentative, conditional hope at the end are perfectly executed. Here is the continuation, capturing the intensity of that moment on the street.
---
Rinwoo stood frozen in the café for a single, heart-stopping moment. The walls of his carefully constructed new life, which had felt so solid, crumbled into dust around him. Every loaf of bread he'd baked, every sunrise he'd enjoyed from his apartment window—it had all been underwritten by the man he thought he'd left behind.
A hot, sharp anger, fiercer than any he'd felt before, surged through him. He wasn't a victim anymore; he was a man who had just discovered his entire autonomy was an illusion.
He didn't think. He just moved.
He burst out of the café door, his eyes scanning the busy street. He saw Taekyun halfway down the block, heading towards a sleek, expensive car that looked utterly out of place in the humble neighborhood.
"Lee Taekyun!" Rinwoo yelled, his voice cutting through the city hum.
Taekyun spun around, shock and concern immediately etching his features. "Rinwoo? What happened? Are you okay?"
Rinwoo stormed up to him, stopping just short of touching him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Why?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fury. "Why have you been helping me? Huh? Was this your plan? To keep me as your pet project? To watch me from a distance and feel good about yourself?"
Taekyun froze, the color draining from his face again. He looked down, his shoulders slumping. "I never helped you," he said, the lie fragile and transparent. "I just did what an owner should do for a good worker. If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else."
The logic, however flimsy, landed. Rinwoo's anger faltered, replaced by a confusing whirlwind of emotions. He was right. A landlord providing housing and a job wasn't a crime. But the intent behind it... the secrecy... it was a violation.
Rinwoo's jaw clenched. He took a step back, the fight draining out of him, leaving behind a hollow ache. "I see," he said coldly. "I apologize for the misunderstanding." He turned on his heel, the weight of the last five minutes crushing him.
"Wait!"
Before Rinwoo could take another step, Taekyun's arms were around him, pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace from behind. Rinwoo stiffened, every muscle locking in resistance.
"I'm sorry," Taekyun choked out, his voice breaking against Rinwoo's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I'll never return, I swear. Just... just stay in that apartment. Stay safe and happy. Just let me know you're okay. Please, just stay like this for a moment."
But the touch, the apology, the sheer audacity of it after two years of silence and manipulation, ignited the fuse of Rinwoo's pain. He shoved Taekyun away with a force that surprised them both.
"You should have thought about this before!" Rinwoo spat, his eyes blazing. "You left me! When I was finally, finally starting to think about giving you another chance, you vanished! You listened to that doctor and you just... disappeared! Now you have nothing to do here!"
The words hung in the air, and Taekyun finally understood the depth of his mistake. He hadn't been noble; he had been a coward. His absence hadn't been a gift; it had been another abandonment.
"You're right," Taekyun whispered, the realization a physical blow. He reached out, not to hug, but to gently stop Rinwoo from walking away again. "I was a fool. I thought I was protecting you by leaving. But all I did was run from my own guilt." He looked at Rinwoo, his eyes stripped bare of all pride, filled only with a desperate, aching love. "I've been holding myself back, watching you secretly for two years. But after seeing you today... after talking to you... I just can't anymore. Please. Give me one chance. Just one. Let me prove I can be different."
Rinwoo looked at the man before him—a shattered king begging for a crown he didn't deserve. The anger was still there, a hot coal in his chest. But beneath it was the memory of the man on his knees in the shrine, and the broken man on the park bench. And the man who, in his own twisted way, had tried to build him a sanctuary.
He hesitated for a long moment, the city traffic swirling around their silent standoff.
Finally, Rinwoo spoke, his voice low and laced with a challenge, offering not forgiveness, but a trial.
"Let's see," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Let's see what you can do with that chance."
Without another word, he turned and walked back towards the café, leaving Taekyun standing alone on the sidewalk, his heart pounding with a painful, terrifying, and utterly fragile hope.
The bell above the café door chimed softly as Rinwoo was wiping down the last tables. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the clean floor.
"Knock, knock! Is the best baker in Seoul accepting visitors, or is he too famous now?" a bright, familiar voice called out.
A genuine smile, the first easy one all day, spread across Rinwoo's face. He looked up to see Eunjae leaning against the doorframe, grinning. He was a burst of vibrant energy, as always.
"Eunjae-ah," Rinwoo greeted, putting down his cloth. "I thought you and Daon would be too busy running your empire to visit a humble café."
"Ugh, don't remind me!" Eunjae groaned, sliding into his usual seat at the counter. "The empire is currently being run by a stubborn, infuriatingly logical robot who thinks 'spontaneous date night' is something you schedule in a calendar three weeks in advance! We had a huge fight about it this morning. He bought me expensive flowers as an apology, but he still doesn't get it! It's the principle!"
He launched into a dramatic retelling of his argument with Daon, his hands flying animatedly. Rinwoo listened, nodding along as he prepared a slice of Eunjae's favorite strawberry shortcake and a cup of soothing chamomile tea.
"Here," Rinwoo said, placing the plate in front of his best friend. "Sugar for your stress."
"You're an angel," Eunjae declared, digging in with a happy sigh. After a few blissful bites, he looked at Rinwoo more closely. "Okay, your 'listening face' is on point, but your 'I have something on my mind' face is even stronger. What's up? Did Jihoon try to invent another disastrous latte flavor?"
Rinwoo took a slow breath, leaning against the counter opposite Eunjae. He played with the edge of a napkin, his smile fading into something more pensive.
"No, it's not Jihoon," he said quietly. He met Eunjae's curious gaze. "I... I saw Taekyun today."
The fork in Eunjae's hand clattered onto the plate. His eyes widened, all the drama about his own life instantly forgotten.
"What?" he breathed. "Lee Taekyun? Here? When? How? Did he bother you? Do I need to have Daon send some... I don't know, business-related legal threats his way?" His protective instincts were immediately on high alert.
Rinwoo gave a small, wry shake of his head. "He didn't bother me. Not in the way you think." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "He was... different, Eunjae. He looked like a ghost. Wasted, sitting on a park bench last night. I brought him to my place because he fainted."
Eunjae's jaw dropped. "You what? Rinwoo, after everything—"
"I know," Rinwoo interrupted softly. "But that's not even the biggest part." He took a deep breath, the confession feeling heavy. "Ms. Kim told me today. Taekyun... he owns this building. He's the one who gave me this job, this apartment. He's been... watching over me. All this time."
The silence that followed was profound. Eunjae stared, his mind visibly reeling as he processed the bombshell. The cozy sanctuary he'd always been so happy Rinwoo had found... was a gilded cage provided by his tormentor.
"And...?" Eunjae finally prompted, his voice gentle but firm. "What did you do? What did you say to him?"
Rinwoo looked down at his hands, then back up at his friend, his expression a complex mix of conflict, residual anger, and a flicker of something else—something that looked dangerously like hope.
"I told him," Rinwoo said, his voice barely above a whisper, "to show me what he can do with a second chance."
Eunjae stared, his fork now completely forgotten. The playful energy had vanished from his face, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock.
"A... a second chance?" he repeated, as if he'd misheard. "Rinwoo, after everything that man put you through? The two years of hell? The affair? The way he broke you so completely you ended up in a hospital because your mind couldn't take it anymore? You're giving him a chance?"
He wasn't angry. He was deeply, profoundly concerned, his protective instincts screaming.
Rinwoo met his gaze, and his eyes were clear, not clouded by the past trauma or naive hope. They held a deep, weary, and heartbreakingly logical resolve.
"I know," Rinwoo said, his voice quiet but steady. "I know every single reason why I shouldn't. But Eunjae, think about it. Hatred and avoidance... what did they truly give me?"
He paused, letting the question hang in the air.
"They gave me a safe distance. They helped me survive. But they also kept me chained to him, just in a different way. Every time I flinched at a memory, every time I had a nightmare, he was still there, controlling my emotions, living in my head rent-free."
He looked down at his own hands, now steady and strong from his work, a stark contrast to the trembling, frail things they had been.
"Giving him this... this 'chance'... it isn't for him. It's for me," Rinwoo explained, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. "This isn't about forgiveness. It's about closing a chapter I can't seem to end. He says he's changed. I need to see it for myself. I need to look the man who destroyed me in the eye and see if there's anything left worth saving. Not for him, but so I can finally know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am making a conscious choice. The choice to either truly walk away forever, with no 'what ifs' left in my heart... or..."
He trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
"Or to see if the man I once loved is still in there somewhere," Eunjae finished softly, his anger melting away into a wave of aching understanding.
Rinwoo nodded, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down his cheek. "I built a life here, Eunjae. I'm strong now. Strong enough to finally face the monster under my bed without being afraid it will swallow me whole. This is my way of taking back the last piece of my power that he still holds."
It was the most heartbreakingly logical thing Eunjae had ever heard. It wasn't a romantic fantasy; it was a surgical, painful procedure Rinwoo was performing on his own soul. He wasn't running back into Taekyun's arms; he was walking back onto the battlefield, not as a victim, but as a general assessing the ruins, deciding whether to rebuild or salt the earth forever.
Eunjae reached across the counter and squeezed Rinwoo's hand tightly.
"Okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. Then I'll be here. To make sure you don't get hurt again. And to help you salt the earth if that's what you decide."
The café door chimed again, and Jihoon stumbled in, looking exhausted but cheerful after his day out. He tossed his bag onto a nearby chair.
"Hyung, you would not believe the line for the new bubble tea place—" he began, then stopped short as he noticed Eunjae at the counter. A wide grin spread across his face. "Oh! Eunjae-hyung! Hey!"
Eunjae turned and offered a warm smile. "Jihoon-ah. Still causing trouble for my best friend here?"
"It's my sacred duty," Jihoon declared proudly, sliding onto the stool next to Eunjae. He peered at the half-eaten strawberry shortcake. "Ooh, is there any more of that?"
Rinwoo let out a soft, genuine laugh, the heavy weight of his conversation with Eunjae momentarily lifting. "In the fridge. Get it yourself, you leech."
As Jihoon bounded off to the kitchen, the atmosphere lightened. Eunjae seamlessly shifted the conversation, asking Jihoon about his university classes, and Jihoon launched into a dramatic story about a impossible professor.
Rinwoo watched them, a fond smile on his face. This was his life now—a quirky roommate, a loyal best friend, a peaceful café. The storm of Taekyun's return was circling outside, but in this moment, surrounded by this chosen family, he felt an unshakeable core of strength. He had built this. And no matter what happened with Taekyun, that was a truth that could not be taken from him.
Later..
The Hong estate was unusually quiet when Eunjae returned. The usual hum of the household staff was gone, and the grand foyer was lit only by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the windows.
"Daon?" Eunjae called out, his voice echoing slightly. "Hello? Did everyone get sucked into a black hole?"
No answer.
A slow, suspicious smile spread across his face. This had Daon written all over it. He crept further inside, towards their private living quarters. He pushed the door open and froze.
The room was transformed. Dozens of flickering candles cast a warm, golden light, their reflections dancing in what seemed like a hundred rose petals scattered across the floor and furniture. A small, elegant table was set for two with their finest china. Soft, romantic music played from a hidden speaker.
Standing in the center of it all, looking uncharacteristically nervous in a perfectly tailored suit, was Daon.
Before Eunjae could even process the scene, Daon moved. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and wrapped his arms around Eunjae from behind, pulling him close and burying his face in the crook of his neck.
"You're late," Daon murmured, his voice a soft, warm vibration against Eunjae's skin.
Eunjae leaned back into the embrace, his heart melting. "I was consoling our best friend whose life is suddenly a telenovela again, thank you very much." He gestured around the room with a laugh. "What is all this? Did your business spreadsheet calculate that today was 'Romance Optimization Day'?"
Daon huffed a laugh, his breath tickling Eunjae's neck. "No. My heart did." He turned Eunjae around in his arms to face him. His eyes, usually so serious and focused, were soft and full of adoration. "I'm sorry about this morning. About the calendar. You're right. Love shouldn't be scheduled." He gestured awkwardly at the elaborate setup. "I... I asked the internet how to be spontaneous. This is what it suggested."
Eunjae's eyes welled up with happy tears. It was so over-the-top, so perfectly imperfect, and so Daon.
"You asked the internet?" Eunjae choked out between laughter and tears. "You, Lee Daon, the human supercomputer, consulted a search engine for romance tips?"
Daon's ears turned pink. "The top result had five stars," he defended himself, a small, vulnerable smile playing on his lips. "And it said chocolate-covered strawberries were a key component. They're in the kitchen. I may have burned the first batch."
Eunjae reached up and cupped his husband's face. "You ridiculous, wonderful, infuriating man." He pulled him down for a soft, lingering kiss. "It's perfect. It's the most spontaneous, scheduled, internet-researched, perfect thing anyone has ever done for me."
Daon beamed, the nervousness finally leaving his body. "So... does this mean I'm forgiven for not understanding the 'principle' of a spontaneous date?"
Eunjae grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the candlelit table. "You're forgiven. Now, let's eat these famous internet strawberries Before I change my mind"
Next morning..
The morning sun was bright, glinting off the cars in the supermarket parking lot. Rinwoo stood by the curb, a few bags of flour and other baking supplies at his feet, checking his phone for the cab he'd booked.
A sleek, silent electric car pulled up, stopping directly in front of him. The tinted window rolled down to reveal Lee Taekyun in the driver's seat. He looked more put-together than the previous day, dressed in a simple, dark sweater, but the shadows under his eyes were still prominent.
"I went to the café. Ms. Kim said you were here," Taekyun said, his voice cautious. "Let me give you a ride."
Rinwoo's first instinct was a firm refusal. "That's not necessary. My cab is on its way."
But Taekyun was already out of the car, moving with a quiet purpose that brooked no argument. He smoothly picked up the heavy bags of flour before Rinwoo could protest further.
"It's no trouble," Taekyun said, his back to Rinwoo as he opened the trunk and carefully placed the bags inside. "The cab fare… you can use it for something else."
He closed the trunk and stood there, waiting, not getting back in the driver's seat, giving Rinwoo the space to make the choice. It was a small gesture, but a significant one—a world away from the man who used to command and expect obedience.
Rinwoo watched him, a conflict warring within him. It was just a ride. A simple, logical act. But accepting it felt like opening a door he'd sworn to keep locked. He glanced at his phone; the cab was still five minutes away.
With a quiet sigh that was more for himself than for Taekyun, Rinwoo canceled the ride. He walked around to the passenger side and got in.
The interior of the car was immaculate and smelled faintly of clean leather. An awkward, heavy silence filled the space as Taekyun started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
"Thank you," Rinwoo said finally, the words stiff but polite.
Taekyun's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, a flicker of something—relief? pain?—crossing his features. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "It's… it's just a ride."
But they both knew it was so much more. It was the first deliberate, chosen proximity since Rinwoo had issued his challenge. It was a tentative, fragile first step on a path that was fraught with the wreckage of their past, the silence in the car echoing with all the words they hadn't yet said.
The silence in the car was thick enough to chew on. Taekyun, desperate to bridge the gap, tried again, his voice carefully neutral.
"The… the weather has been nice this week."
Rinwoo stared out the window. "I suppose."
"I was thinking… if you're free one evening, perhaps we could have dinner." Taekyun's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"I'm busy with the café," Rinwoo replied, his tone flat and final. "Weekends are the busiest. Evenings are for prep."
"Maybe lunch then? Or just coffee?" Taekyun pressed, his patience a visible, straining thing.
"I have a lot of work, Taekyun." The repetition was a shield, each refusal a brick reinforcing the wall between them.
Taekyun nodded, accepting the rejection without argument, but the hope in his eyes dimmed a little more. He was about to try another, more mundane topic when Rinwoo spoke, his voice cutting through the tense quiet with a question that was a landmine.
"Where have you been for the past two years?"
Taekyun's entire body went rigid. The car swerved slightly before he corrected it, his breath catching. He glanced at Rinwoo, who was still looking out the window, his profile unreadable.
"I… I had money," Taekyun started, his voice low. "A private account. My father didn't know about it. I'd been saving it… for the future."
A sharp, bitter scoff escaped Rinwoo. He finally turned his head, his gaze cold and knowing. "The future?" he repeated, the words dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess. A future with Yuna?"
The name hung in the air, toxic and sharp. Taekyun flinched as if physically struck. The truth of it was a branding iron on his conscience. He had saved that money, once upon a time, dreaming of a life with her, a life built on a lie while his real husband withered away in neglect.
"Yes," Taekyun admitted, the word a pained whisper. He didn't insult Rinwoo by denying it. "It's true."
He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to continue, to lay his pathetic cards on the table. "After I left… after the hospital… I used that money. I opened a few small hotels. A couple of restaurants." He shrugged, a hollow gesture. "They… they did well. They're quite famous now, actually. And that's… that's it. That's what I've been doing."
It was a stark, unembellished summary of two years of his life. No grand adventures, no profound spiritual journeys. Just a man using the ill-gotten funds from his past betrayal to build a successful, lonely empire, all while secretly watching the one person he truly loved from the shadows. The confession wasn't impressive; it was just sad. And in its raw, unvarnished honesty, it was perhaps the most genuine thing he had ever said to Rinwoo.
The car pulled up to the curb outside "Morning Light," the silence between them now a heavy blanket. Before Rinwoo could even unfasten his seatbelt, Taekyun was out of the car, popping the trunk and gathering the heavy bags of flour and supplies.
"You don't have to—" Rinwoo began, stepping out.
"It's fine," Taekyun interrupted, his voice soft but firm, already heading for the café door. He held it open for Rinwoo, then followed him inside, carrying the bags straight towards the kitchen storage room as if he owned the place—which, Rinwoo remembered with a fresh pang, he technically did.
Rinwoo watched him, a mix of frustration and something else, something dangerously close to pity, swirling in his chest. "Taekyun, you can leave them there. Don't you have other work to do? Hotels to run? Restaurants to manage?"
Taekyun carefully set the bags down and straightened up. He looked at Rinwoo, his eyes wide and painfully earnest. "No," he said quietly. "There's nothing special to do."
The admission was devastating. The mighty Lee Taekyun, whose schedule used to be booked in five-minute increments, now had 'nothing special to do.' His entire world had shrunk to this café, to the man standing before him.
Rinwoo sighed, a long, weary sound. "Fine. Just... stay put." He grabbed a bag of sugar and headed into the small storage room to put it on a high shelf.
But Taekyun, unable to just stand still, followed him into the cramped space, picking up a bag of oats to hand to him. The room was small, forcing them into close proximity. The air was thick with the scent of coffee beans and unspoken words.
Rinwoo climbed onto a small step-stool, his back to Taekyun, his focus on arranging the shelves. But his mind wasn't on the groceries. It was on the man standing silently behind him, a living, breathing monument to their broken past. He could feel Taekyun's gaze, feel the weight of his hesitation, the unasked questions and apologies hovering in the air between them.
Distracted by the intensity of the silence, Rinwoo misjudged his footing as he reached for a higher shelf. The stool wobbled precariously.
"Rinwoo!" Taekyun's voice was a sharp gasp of panic.
But it was too late. The stool tipped. Rinwoo cried out as a sharp, white-hot pain shot through his ankle, and he fell, bracing for the impact with the hard floor.
The impact never came.
Instead, he landed against something solid and warm. Taekyun had thrown himself forward, catching Rinwoo in his arms, taking the brunt of the fall himself. They landed in a heap on the floor, Taekyun's body cushioning Rinwoo's.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Rinwoo was pressed against Taekyun's chest, the familiar scent of his cologne, now faint and mixed with the smell of flour, filling his senses. It was a scent from a lifetime ago.
"Are you hurt?" Taekyun asked, his voice frantic, his arms still tightly wrapped around Rinwoo, his hands checking for injuries. "Your ankle? Did you hit your head?"
Rinwoo pushed against him, trying to sit up, wincing as the pain in his ankle flared. "I'm fine. Let me go."
But Taekyun didn't let go. His embrace tightened, and he buried his face in Rinwoo's hair, his whole body trembling.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, the words muffled and raw. "I'm so sorry. For all of it. For every time I wasn't there to catch you. For every time I was the one who made you fall. Please, just let me... just let me hold you for a second. Please."
The desperation in his voice, the raw, unvarnated fear and regret, shattered Rinwoo's defenses. He stopped struggling, letting himself be held in the arms of the man who had been both his greatest tormentor and, in this single, desperate moment, his protector. The pain in his ankle was nothing compared to the heartbreaking ache of hearing the mighty Lee Taekyun brought to his knees once more, not by grand gestures, but by the simple, terrifying fear of seeing the person he loved get hurt.