Saturday sunlight cut across the apartment, picking out the chaos of Min-Kyung's departure morning: suitcases unzipped and half-filled, a tangle of designer dresses, airport outfits, scattered skincare, the faint scent of vanilla and perfume lingering where Min-Kyung's hands moved. Yura, freshly showered and still barefoot, was prepping herbal tea in the kitchen, lips curled in a fond, exasperated smile as Min-Kyung grumbled her way from closet to luggage.

"Are you sure you want that sweater?" Yura called, pouring hot water.

Min-Kyung reappeared, holding up a red cashmere turtleneck and a sequined bra. "Honestly? I'd rather pack your pregnancy glow. That shit would kill in New York. Don't tell me not to work too hard—last time you said that, I ended up doing double shifts for Fashion Week."

Yura grinned. "I'll send you a care package—masks, Korean vitamins, baby bump photos for the group chat."

Min-Kyung groaned, sinking onto the couch. "As long as it's not your labor live-stream. God, you're going to make such a mess of me. I'll be in therapy by spring."

Yura walked over with tea, maternal for once, pressing the mug into Min-Kyung's hands. "Just don't burn yourself out before Christmas. Promise me you'll at least try to sleep."

Min-Kyung rolled her eyes but accepted the comfort, folding her legs under her. "I'll try. If you promise not to go full dragon queen on your team while you're nesting."

Yura shrugged, one hand drifting unconsciously to her belly. "I'm not nesting. I'm…managing chaos. Besides, someone has to keep Harin from dyeing the office dog pink."

Min-Kyung burst out laughing, then suddenly softened, gaze falling to Yura's middle. "You ready for this? The baby? The family drama? All of it?"

A beat of silence. Yura's smile faltered, replaced by something raw and honest. "I don't know. But I'm not alone anymore. That's what matters."

Min-Kyung set down her mug, reached out, and pressed her palm lightly to Yura's belly, fingers splayed as if to shield both of them. "Just promise me you'll let people help you. That's all."

Yura covered her hand, squeezing. "Deal. Now get up before you start crying. Your mascara's expensive."

"Bitch." But Min-Kyung's eyes were suspiciously bright.

They hugged, bodies pressed tight, and for once, no jokes, just warmth.

Joon-ho waited in the car, one elbow hanging out the window, sunglasses reflecting the city's cold gleam. Min-Kyung tossed her bags in the trunk with practiced force, flopped into the passenger seat, and immediately kicked her shoes off.

"Airport, oppa. Don't drive like a nun."

He grinned, pulling away from the curb. "If I get a ticket, I'll invoice you."

The ride was a strange mix of quiet and banter—Seoul's Saturday traffic crawling, radio low, Min-Kyung scrolling her phone for flight updates and urgent emails.

After a long silence, she spoke. "You know she's not telling you everything, right? Yura. She'll try to hold it all together even if it kills her."

Joon-ho didn't glance over. "I know. I've seen it."

"She's going to have enemies—her ex, her own family, Baek Ji-hwan's people. They'll dig, they'll talk. You have to keep her safe. Don't let her carry it alone."

He nodded, a small muscle ticking in his jaw. "I'll protect her. She's not alone this time. And I don't care what the Seos or Baek try to do—if they want a fight, they'll get one."

Min-Kyung snorted. "If you need backup, call me. I know how to break a kneecap in heels."

He smirked. "I'll keep you on speed dial. Just don't expect hazard pay."

At the airport, the usual mess of announcements, rolling suitcases, business travelers half-asleep at the gates. They walked together to check-in. When her bags were tagged, Min-Kyung lingered, shoving her boarding pass into her purse, avoiding his gaze.

Joon-ho pulled her in for a hug—hard, arms wrapped tight.

"Take care of Yura," she mumbled into his shoulder. "And take care of yourself. This city's colder than it looks."

He squeezed her, then grinned as he stepped back. "Don't be late, Min. Try not to seduce any customs agents this time."

She gave him her dirtiest look, then let him slap her ass. "Watch it, oppa. I'm international now."

He watched her until she disappeared past security, hand raised in a lazy wave, sunglasses perched on top of her head, jaw set for war.

Back at the parking lot, Joon-ho's phone buzzed. A message: Soo-jin.

Soo-jin:I resigned from Jeju hospital. I want to come back to Seoul. Is the clinic offer still open?

Joon-ho blinked, thumb hovering. Soo-jin—their old uni group's quiet powerhouse, the one he'd ghosted when life got messy.

He typed back:It's still yours. When are you coming back?

Soo-jin:Next week. I want to help you build something better.

He sat for a moment, the weight of old promises and new beginnings heavy in his hands. He'd disappeared before, ran from connection, left people dangling. Maybe this was a shot to do it right.

He started the car, rolling toward Gangnam, head buzzing with logistics.

Lumina HQ was a living monument to ambition—glass, light, sharp corners, and the relentless pulse of creativity. Yura and Harin were already camped in the conference room, laptops open, coffee everywhere, mood boards spreading like a virus across the table.

Harin was mid-rant about real estate. "—the rent on that place in Cheongdam is a fucking joke. I'd rather burn money for warmth."

Yura rolled her eyes, tapping on her phone. "It's too small anyway. And I don't want LUNE looking like an afterthought jammed into some over-priced closet."

Joon-ho dropped his keys on the table, slid into a chair beside Yura. "How about my apartment building? The empty floor under me. Big space, private carpark, you'd have actual security—not just a bored old guy with a clipboard."

Yura's eyes lit up. "That's not bad. LUNE needs independence. But close enough to collaborate with Lumina. You sure you don't mind us invading your territory?"

He grinned. "I'll just charge rent in…other currencies."

Harin rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Sexual favors only get you so far, Daddy. But the location is killer. Is Madam Ha-eun still running the building?"

Joon-ho nodded. "Yeah. If she likes you, you'll never have a problem. If she doesn't…you'll never know what hit you."

Yura stretched, a hand on her belly. "I want to tell her myself. She's been a mentor—if she finds out about the pregnancy through the grapevine, she'll be pissed."

Harin smirked. "Plus, she'll want to run her own sweepstakes about the baby's gender. You know Ha-eun—she'll already have five bets on your kid's birth weight."

Yura snorted. "We'll set up a meeting. I want her blessing, and maybe she'll even throw us a party on that rooftop bar. God, imagine the gossip if the aunties find out first."

They mapped out details, tossing locations and design ideas. Harin scribbled a list of requirements, threatening to start a group chat called "LUNE Office Chaos." Yura texted Ha-eun, requesting coffee next week. Joon-ho called his building manager to prep a tour.

When the business talk slowed, Yura turned to Joon-ho, voice quieter. "Thank you. For all of this."

He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "You're building something. All I'm doing is opening doors."

She squeezed his hand under the table, thumb brushing over his knuckles. "It means more than you think."

Harin pretended to gag. "If you two start making heart eyes, I'm posting your sex tape to the company Slack."

Joon-ho just flipped her off. "Make sure you edit out my bad angles."

After lunch, as Yura worked through messages from the Lumina team, Joon-ho ducked into the building's garden for a call. The air was sharp, and sunlight glanced off the glass towers.

His phone buzzed again—another message, this one cold and clipped: Baek Ji-hwan.

Baek Ji-hwan:Heard about your good fortune. Don't get comfortable. The Seos will have opinions.

Joon-ho smirked, typing back:I'm sure they will. I don't give a fuck. Have a nice day.

He pocketed the phone, heart pounding with something between anger and glee. The threats meant nothing now. The future was elsewhere, in laughter and plans and the gentle weight of Yura's hand in his.

The day wound down with the three of them—Joon-ho, Yura, Harin—crammed together on the office's battered old sofa, the city smudging into gold outside the windows. The mood was looser, old stories surfacing, talk drifting from baby names (Harin: "We can't call it Daddy Jr, no matter how hard you try.") to next month's launch party, to whether Madam Ha-eun's bar could host a baby shower and a wild afterparty in the same night.

At the edge of it all, Yura felt the future taking shape. Spaces claimed, people returning, lines drawn in soft, invisible ink. She watched Joon-ho tease Harin about office pranks, heard the promise in his voice when he talked about the team they were building, the family growing around them.

For once, the path ahead felt wide open—not a minefield, but an invitation. The past still lingered, sure. Baek Ji-hwan, the Seos, the gossip, the old wounds from friends lost and found again. But the weight was less.

In her mind, Yura imagined the next gathering: Min-Kyung home for Christmas, Ji-hye back from Brazil, Alina raising hell, Natty and Yumi dancing on tables, Harin ringleading chaos, Madam Ha-eun pouring champagne on the rooftop. Her—at the center. Not just surviving, but building something wild and unbreakable.

Joon-ho's hand found hers, grounding her.

"Ready for the next mess?" he whispered, eyes bright.

She squeezed his fingers. "Always. As long as we do it together."

And with that, the next chapter began—new rooms, new faces, old loves returning, and the city waiting to be claimed all over again.

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