Mira's phone buzzed during her morning commute.
Unknown Number: Ms. Yoon, this is Hae-soo Park. I would like to invite you for tea this afternoon at 3 PM. The car will be waiting for you at your office.
Her breath caught. Jae's mother.
She stared at the message, fingers hovering over the screen. This wasn't just tea—this was a test.
---
Mira spent her lunch hour agonizing over her outfit in the office bathroom, swapping her usual blazer for a softer cream-colored cardigan. She even reapplied her lipstick three times.
Ji-hoon leaned against the sink, smirking. "Hot date?"
"Hotter," Mira muttered, blotting her lips. "The kind that could end me."
His eyebrows shot up. "Chairman Park's mom?"
Mira groaned. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only because you look like you're about to face a firing squad." He tossed her a compact. "Relax. If she hated you, you'd already be exiled to a Siberian branch office."
---
A sleek black sedan idled at the curb precisely at 3 PM. The driver held the door open without a word.
Mira's knee bounced the entire ride.
They didn't head to the Park family estate. Instead, the car wound through Seoul's arts district, stopping at a secluded hanok tucked behind a modern gallery.
The garden was a masterpiece of controlled wildness—peonies bursting between neatly raked gravel, maple leaves trembling over stone pathways.
At the center pavilion, Hae-soo Park sat pouring tea, her posture flawless in a tailored hanbok.
"Ms. Yoon." She didn't look up. "Sit."
Mira bowed deeply before settling on the cushion across from her.
Hae-soo pushed a cup toward her. "You've caused quite a stir."
Mira's fingers tightened around the porcelain. "I never intended—"
"Intentions hardly matter." She finally met Mira's eyes. "My son has dismantled a ten-year business alliance for you."
The tea scalded Mira's tongue, but she refused to flinch.
"Tell me," Hae-soo continued, "what do you know about our family?"
Mira set her cup down carefully. "Only what Jae has shared."
"Which is?"
"That you value loyalty. That appearances matter. That—" She hesitated. "That he disappointed you by refusing Eun-ji."
Hae-soo's lips thinned. "Do you know why we favored that match?"
Mira shook her head.
"Because Eun-ji understood our world." She refilled Mira's cup. "You don't."
The unspoken yet hung between them.
A servant brought a photo album, its leather cover worn with age.
Hae-soo opened to a page marked with a silk ribbon.
A child's drawing—a lopsided rabbit with "To Jae's mom" scrawled in shaky hangul.
Mira's chest ached. "He kept this?"
"Every one." Hae-soo turned another page: report cards, school photos, a pressed peony petal. "When we moved abroad, he begged to write you. His father forbade it."
She snapped the album shut.
"So tell me, Ms. Yoon—are you prepared to be the reason he defies everything again?"
---
The car dropped Mira back at the office as sunset painted the sky.
She barely registered Ji-hoon's questions or Kim's curious glances. Her phone buzzed—Jae's name flashing on the screen.
She let it ring.
Hae-soo's final words echoed: "Love is not enough in our world. But perhaps, for him, you'll learn to make it so."
Across the street, a familiar figure leaned against a car, watching. Waiting.
Mira took a shuddering breath and answered the call.
---
Mira barely had time to process Hae-soo's words before her phone buzzed again—this time with a call from Jae. She hesitated, watching his name flash on the screen, her thumb hovering over the answer button.
She took a deep breath and accepted the call.
"Where are you?" His voice was sharp, urgent.
Mira swallowed. "I just got back to the office."
"Did my mother send for you?"
The tension in his voice made her stomach twist. "Yes."
A beat of silence. Then—
"Stay there. I'm coming."
Before she could protest, the line went dead.
Jae arrived in under fifteen minutes, his expression stormy as he strode through the office doors. The entire floor fell silent as he approached her desk, his jaw clenched.
Mira stood, her pulse racing. "Jae—"
He didn't give her a chance to speak. "Outside. Now."
She followed him into the empty hallway, the weight of her coworkers' stares burning into her back.
The moment the door shut behind them, Jae turned on her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Mira crossed her arms. "It wasn't your business."
His eyes darkened. "Not my—? Mira, she could have—"
"She didn't," Mira cut in. "She just wanted to talk."
Jae exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "About what?"
Mira hesitated. "About you. About Eun-ji. About... me."
Jae's expression hardened. "And what did she say?"
Mira looked away, her chest tightening. "That I don't understand your world. That Eun-ji does. That she's—"
"Stop."
Jae stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Mira's throat burned. "But it's true, Jae. Eun-ji knows how things work. She knows the rules. She's—"
"Not you."
The words hung between them, heavy and final.
Mira's hands trembled. "You're giving up too much for me."
Jae's jaw tightened. "That's my choice."
"But it's not just about you!" Mira's voice cracked. "Your family, your company—Eun-ji could have given you everything without a fight. And I—"
"I don't want everything." Jae's voice was raw. "I want you."
Mira's breath hitched.
Jae closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Do you really think I care about mergers? About alliances? About what my parents think is 'right'?" His thumbs brushed her collarbones, his touch searing. "I spent ten years building a life I didn't even want because I thought I had to. Because I thought that was the only way to be worthy of—"
He cut himself off, his grip tightening.
Mira's vision blurred. "Worthy of what?"
Jae exhaled shakily. "Of coming back to you."
Her heart shattered.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their ragged breathing, the distant hum of the office beyond the door.
Then—
Mira pulled away. "You shouldn't."
Jae stilled. "What?"
"You shouldn't want me." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Not like this. Not when it costs you so much."
Jae's expression darkened. "That's not your decision."
Mira shook her head, stepping back. "You need to think about this, Jae. Really think. Because I—"
Her voice broke.
"I can't be the reason you lose everything."
Before he could respond, she turned and walked away, her chest so tight she could barely breathe.
Mira didn't look back.
She grabbed her bag from her desk, ignoring Ji-hoon's concerned glance and Kim's whispered questions. The elevator ride down felt endless, her reflection in the metal doors blurred by unshed tears.
Outside, the city buzzed around her, indifferent to the ache in her chest.
Her phone vibrated—Jae's name again.
She silenced it.
For the first time in weeks, the weight of her own doubts felt heavier than anything Eun-ji could throw at her.
And the worst part?
A small, traitorous voice in her heart whispered that Jae deserved better.
That maybe, just maybe, Eun-ji was right.