The instructor's calm voice echoed through the greenhouse, explaining the final steps of arranging blooms for the day. The air was fragrant — a soft blend of lilies, daisies, and sun-warmed earth — and the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and chatter as the guests tried their hand at the delicate craft.
Hye-rin stood near the far table, her brow creased in concentration as she positioned a tall white vase in front of her. The sunlight filtered through the glass roof, catching faint glimmers in her hair.
"Careful," Min-jae's warm voice came from behind her — smooth, deep, and teasingly calm. "You're gripping it too tightly again."
She turned slightly, startled. "You noticed?"
His smile deepened. "It's hard not to notice you, Miss Kang."
Before she could react, her sleeve brushed the rim of the vase. It began to tilt.
Her breath caught—
Then a strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her before she could fall. His other hand caught the vase in one swift motion, stopping it from shattering. The movement was fluid, practiced — like he had done this a thousand times before.
"Got you," he murmured, close enough that his breath brushed her ear.
Her heart lurched. "Th-thank you," she stammered, cheeks warming.
He smiled again, a touch softer this time. "You really should be more careful. I wouldn't want the flowers getting all the attention when you're standing here."
She blinked at him, speechless.
Across the room, Joon-hyuk froze mid-step. His sharp gaze locked on them — on Min-jae's hand still resting lightly on her arm.
For a moment, he said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw tightened, the muscle beneath his cheek flexing as if he were holding back words that could burn. The crisp collar of his white shirt framed his face perfectly — the kind of devastating handsomeness that didn't need effort. He looked like a man built from composure and quiet storms, beautiful even in his jealousy.
He turned away before anyone noticed, though everyone did. He cleaned his hands with an unnecessary precision, muttered something to Mr. Eugene about "checking logistics," and strode out with calm, commanding steps — the kind of calm that made people too afraid to comment.
Park Se-hee, who had witnessed the entire exchange, exhaled in disbelief. "What's wrong with him?"
Hye-rin's eyes followed Joon-hyuk until he disappeared through the doorway. "Who?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Your fiancé, obviously." Se-hee crossed her arms, smirking. "He just stormed out like a scene from a drama. Girl, your man is jealous. He must really love you."
Hye-rin forced a small, polite smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Inside, her thoughts whispered something colder — Lee Joon-hyuk doesn't fall in love. He just hates losing.
Still, as the wind stirred the petals across the table and the faint echo of his footsteps faded, she couldn't ignore the uneasy rhythm in her chest — a flutter she couldn't name.
And from where Min-jae stood, watching her quietly, that flutter wasn't going to fade anytime soon.