Chapter 22: The Morning After
Tomi's POV
The first thing I was aware of was warmth. A solid, steady heat along my back, and an arm draped heavily over my waist. The second thing was the scent—clean linen and something uniquely, undeniably him. Min-Jae. My eyes fluttered open. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the unfamiliar, yet incredibly luxurious, room. The guest room. Right. And Min-Jae was in the bed with me. The memories of last night washed over me in a warm, embarrassing wave. The crying, the ramyeon, the way he'd held me… and then later, the way his lips had found my shoulder, my neck, my mouth. The way my body had responded like it was made solely for his touch. The way we'd finally, breathlessly, come to a stop, a silent agreement passing between us that this was enough for now. That we would wait. I carefully shifted, trying to turn without waking him. His hold on me tightened instinctively, a soft, sleepy sound rumbling in his chest. My heart did a funny little flip. Seo Min-Jae, the nation's heartthrob, the man from my phone screen, was curled around me in a protective cocoon, snoring softly. This was real. This was happening. The anxiety tried to creep in, hissing about viral videos and Sasha's cruel words, but the steady rhythm of his breathing against my back pushed it all away. For this single, quiet moment, it was just us. Eventually, I managed to slip out from under his arm. He stirred, blinking awake. His hair was adorably messy, and his eyes were soft with sleep, devoid of their usual guarded intensity. "Hey," he rasped, his voice gravelly. "Hey," I whispered, suddenly shy. "I was just… going to find the bathroom." He smiled, a slow, lazy thing that made my stomach swoop. "Down the hall to the left. Don't get lost. This place is bigger than your dorm." I scurried out, my face heating. When I returned, he was sitting up against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. The sheets pooled around his waist, revealing the smooth, defined planes of his chest. I forced my eyes to look anywhere else. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked, his gaze searching my face. "Better than I have in weeks," I admitted. It was the truth. The world outside felt miles away. "Good." He patted the space beside him. "Come here. We should talk about yesterday." The peace shattered. The video. Ji-hoon. The crowd. Sasha. The words black slut echoed in my mind, and I flinched. He saw it. His expression hardened, not at me, but at the memory. "Tomi. Look at me." I did. "What he did was unacceptable. What she said was disgusting. It's not going to stand." "What can we do?" I asked, my voice small. "The internet… it's like shouting into a storm." "We don't shout into the storm," he said, his voice low and decisive. "We control the narrative. Now, come on. I'm making you breakfast." I almost laughed. "You? Cook?" He grinned, a flash of the playful man I was starting to know. "I said I'm making it. I didn't say it would be edible. It's part of my charm." He reached for his crutches, leaning against the nightstand. Watching him maneuver, his jaw set with determination, sent another wave of affection through me. He was hurt, but he wasn't broken.
Min-Jae's POV
Watching her sleep had been a kind of therapy. The tightness in her face from yesterday had melted away, leaving her looking peaceful, younger. I'd wanted to freeze that moment, to build a wall around this apartment so nothing could ever hurt her again. But that wasn't reality. Reality was a viral video and a spoiled chaebol heir who thought he could publicly humiliate my girlfriend. My girlfriend. The word felt solid and right in my head. I was a disaster in the kitchen. I knew it. Tomi knew it after about thirty seconds of watching me try to find a bowl. She finally took pity on me, gently nudging me aside with a soft, "Let me, patient. Sit." I obeyed, leaning against the counter, content to just watch her move. She found eggs, cheese, and some leftover vegetables with an efficiency that spoke of years of helping her mother. There was a grace to her, a practicality that was the complete opposite of the performative, curated world I lived in. "So," she said, cracking eggs into a bowl. "Controlling the narrative. What does that mean?" "It means my team is already drafting a statement," I said. "We're not hiding. We're confirming. We're putting out our truth before anyone else can twist it further." She whisked the eggs, her brow furrowed. "Won't that make it worse? The comments… the attention…" "It will be a storm," I admitted. "But it will be a storm we chose. Right now, the story is 'Mystery Girl in Love Triangle Scandal.' We're changing it to 'Min-Jae and Tomi: A Private Relationship Seeking Understanding.' It makes us human. It makes him look like the villain who interrupted something real." She poured the mixture into a heated pan. The sizzle filled the quiet kitchen. "And Sasha?" she asked quietly. That was a harder question. "That's yours to handle. But you don't have to do it alone. And you don't have to do it today." She was silent for a moment, focusing on the eggs. "I miss her," she whispered, almost to herself. "Even after what she said. I just… I don't understand." My phone buzzed on the counter. It was Tae-ho. Statement ready for your review. News outlets are already calling. I showed the screen to Tomi.She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay." I pulled up the document. It was perfect. Short, direct, and classy. It confirmed our relationship, asked for privacy and respect, and made no mention of Ji-hoon, thereby robbing him of any significance in our story. To our fans and the public, This is to confirm that I, Seo Min-Jae, am in a private, committed relationship with Ms. Ayotomiwa Adebayo. We ask for your kindness and understanding as we navigate this new chapter together. We sincerely hope for your support in respecting our privacy. Thank you. "It's good," Tomi said, reading over my shoulder. She smelled like sleep and scrambled eggs. It was the best thing I'd ever smelled. "Then it's done," I said, and hit send. The moment the message delivered to my PR team, the air in the kitchen changed. It was out of our hands now. The world knew. Tomi turned off the stove and divided the eggs onto two plates. She brought them to the breakfast bar and sat beside me. For a few minutes, we just ate in silence, a united front against the coming storm. My phone began to vibrate incessantly, notifications piling up one after another. I reached over and placed my hand over hers, lacing our fingers together. "Whatever happens out there," I said, nodding toward the window, toward the city, "we handle it together. In here." See. She looked down at our joined hands, then back up at me. A small, resilient smile touched her lips. "Together."