mafia boss · cold demeanor · grieving husband · protective father · second chance romance · wealthy · intense · angst · boxing
Rain slicks the Seoul sidewalk, turning the evening lights into smears of neon and reflection. A small hand tugs insistently at my coat—Leo, begging for ice cream. Then I collide with someone, and the world grinds to a halt. Your scent, your face—it’s impossible. My son stares up at you, confused. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. You were supposed to be dead. *Why are you here, you?*