"Okay, okay," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, resonant frequency that always seemed to vibrate right against my ribs. He reached out, his long, elegant fingers resting gently on my knees—a grounding touch that sought to bridge the gap between my logic and his heart. "The lecture was valid, Sana. Every point you made about responsibility, about the fans, and about my company was completely accurate. You are absolutely right."
He gave me a look of sincere contrition, bowing his head slightly like a student accepting a reprimand. But even through his humility, his eyes were dancing—shining with a wicked, suppressed laughter and the quiet triumph of a man who knew he had already won the only argument that mattered.
"But, Chief," he continued, his voice shifting into a persuasive, tender register that felt like velvet. "I need you to consider the reality: I have two days. Two days where no manager can call me to a set, no camera can flash in my eyes, and no script dictates my movements."
He leaned forward, his gaze becoming intensely earnest. "You are leaving for India soon. That is a nine-hour flight and a five-hour time difference. That means our 'forever' starts with intense logistical planning and the weight of distance. I needed these two days to anchor us, butterfly. To create enough memories, enough certainty, and enough peace to last us through the separation that is coming."
He lowered his head slightly, giving me the final, devastating look of absolute, unyielding commitment.
"I didn't cancel the world to run away from it, Butterfly. I cancelled the world so I could dedicate these precious hours to learning how to be without you, by first learning how to be completely with you."
Beside us, Anvi and Sanvi—who had been holding their breath like they were watching the climax of a drama—exchanged a synchronised, triumphant glance from the edge of the bed. They were already sold.
I tried to hold my stern expression. I really did. I wanted to be the disciplined officer, the voice of reason that reminded him of his status. But facing his overwhelming sincerity—the way he was willing to sacrifice the noise of fame for two simple days of quiet love—was impossible. My angry frown finally flickered, softened, and broke into a soft, reluctant smile.
"Fine," I breathed, the word acting as a total surrender. I turned to the girls, who were already practically vibrating with excitement. "Anvi, Sanvi, go to your room and get ready. We're going. We have to do the shopping for our families today—I can't go home empty-handed."
Woonseok's face lit up instantly, that megawatt idol smile returning in full force. "I know the best place, Sana. A private boutique where you can find everything. No crowds, just quality."
"No, Woon, you don't have to be bothered," I started, feeling that familiar pang of guilt. "It's a long list, and it'll be boring for you."
"Butterfly, not at all," he countered, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Just get ready. Believe me, okay? Just... trust me."
While the girls scurried off to their own room, a whirlwind of chatter and clattering makeup bags, I disappeared into the bedroom to transform. I wanted to wear something that felt like home today. I pulled out the white saree I had carefully packed—a delicate ivory drape adorned with tiny, hand-painted colorful flowers that looked like they had been scattered by a breeze.
I swept my hair open, letting it fall in dark waves, and hooked the silver jhumkas into my ears. They chimed softly with every movement.
"Sanvi?" I called out, struggling with the silk ties at the back of my blouse. The fabric was slippery and the hooks were tiny. "Are you ready? Can you come in and tie the knot for me?"
I heard the door click open and felt a presence behind me. My hands were occupied with my silver bangles, and I didn't turn around, assuming my friend had stepped in to help.
"Sanvi, what is Mr Idol doing out there?" I whispered, my voice thick with a mix of affection and worry. "I keep thinking we're bothering him so much. I feel like we're dragging a global star into a grocery run. Do you think he's actually okay with this?"
I felt a pair of hands reach for the ties. They weren't Sanvi's. These hands were larger, warmer, and they moved with a slow, deliberate precision that made the breath catch in my throat. The fingers brushed against the bare skin of my back, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
He pulled the strings taut, tying the knot with a lingering touch. Then, before I could even gasp, I felt the softest, most reverent pressure of a kiss in the crook of my neck.
"Woon!" I gasped, my face turning a shade of red that rivalled the flowers on my saree. I spun around, my bangles clinking wildly. "You! I thought—I thought it was Sanvi! Stop! If someone comes in... it will be so embarrassing!"
Woonseok didn't move back. He stood there, his eyes sweeping over me, taking in the drape of the saree and the silver jewelry. He looked like a man who had just seen a vision. He slowly reached out, placing both of his hands over his heart, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Oh my... mine," he breathed, his voice a low, shaken rumble. "I think... I think I'm actually going to die. Sana, how can you do this to me?"
I laughed, though it was breathy and shy. "Hey! Don't say that! Don't be like that, you're making me so embarrassed. It's just a saree."
"It's not just a saree," he murmured. "It's you. Every time I think I've seen the most beautiful version of you, you change the rules."
When we finally emerged, Anvi and Sanvi were waiting in their kurtis, looking like a vibrant splash of color. "Sana! You look like a dream!" Sanvi exclaimed.
I reached for a hair tie, intending to pull my hair back. "Do I leave it open? Or should I tie it? It might get messy while we're shopping."
Before I could loop the elastic, Woonseok reached out and gently took the hair tie from my fingers. He didn't give it back. Instead, he slid it onto his own wrist, the simple black band looking stark against his expensive watch.
"Leave it open," he commanded softly. "You look... mine, like this. The tie stays with me."
Anvi and Sanvi groaned in unison. "Oh my god, you guys," Anvi laughed. "This much love? You're making us feel so single. Can we go now?"
After an hour in Woonseok's car, we reached a massive, glass-fronted showroom. It was a branded sanctuary of luxury. As we entered, I looked at the marble floors and the bowing staff, whispering to Woonseok, "Woon... is this even a shopping centre? It looks like a museum. Is it too expensive?"
"Don't worry about anything," he whispered back. "Just enjoy."
While the dresses swept away the girls, my eyes were drawn to a mannequin in the centre. It was a stunning white cord-set—a long, flowing skirt and a structured, full-sleeved top. It was classic, sophisticated, and utterly timeless. I walked over and peeked at the price tag. My eyes went wide.
"Sanvi, Anvi," I called out, "I think we need to go. I know what you're thinking... this place is way out of our budget."
Woonseok stepped forward, pulling a sleek black card from his wallet. He handed it to the head of the floor staff. "Everything they choose," he said in a voice that brooked no argument, "bill it to me."
"Woon, no!" I protested. "This is too much."
He looked at Anvi and Sanvi with a wink. "Sanvi, Anvi you're forgetting something. There's a very important rule, isn't there? The 'Best Jiju' rule. I have to be that for you, don't I?"
Anvi's jaw dropped. "Jiju... you are... we are so impressed! Thank you!"
"Woon, I can't—"
"Butterfly," he said, turning back to me. "This is the bare minimum. Now," he pointed toward the white cord-set. "Go try that on. For me. Please?"
The Breathless Verdict
I disappeared into the luxury trial room. When I walked out, the fabric of the cord-set felt like a second skin—heavy, expensive silk that moved like water.
Woonseok was sitting in a plush chair, waiting. When the curtain slid back and I stepped out, he went completely still. I did a slow, hesitant circle, showing off the cut of the skirt. "How does it look, Woon? Is it too... much?"
Silence.
Woonseok didn't say a word. His breath literally hitched. He just stared at me, his eyes wide, his soul seemingly visible in his gaze. For a full minute, the world around us simply ceased to exist.
"Woon?" I asked, my voice small. "Are you even listening?"
He blinked, a deep blush finally creeping up his neck as he stood up slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I'm listening," he stammered, his usual idol-coolness completely shattered.
He walked toward me, stopping just inches away.
"A celebrity finds adoration in the eyes of millions, but a man finds his soul in the silence of the woman who makes his heart stop beating."
"Sana," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've seen a thousand stars. I've walked on a hundred red carpets. But you... in this... you are the only thing I see. I don't just love you, Butterfly. I am in awe of you."