Don't Touch The Bride
his calm voice cut through my hesitation, soft and warm.
I pushed the door wider and entered the room, my steps careful—not to be sneaky, but because the cold floor sent a chill up my legs.
“Oppa,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him from behind and pressing a small kiss to his cheek.
He glanced at me with a faint smile. “Why would you call me that?” he asked, amusement lighting his face.
“We’re Korean, aren’t we?” I teased lightly.
As he adjusted in his chair, I noticed him pressing a hand to his shoulder, clearly in discomfort. He’d been working all day again. The man didn’t know how to rest.
Sikat na Kabanata