Monday morning hit like a truck made of gossip and viral videos.
I walked into the lobby at 8:40 a.m., iced Americano in hand, trying to act normal after the gala weekend.
Normal lasted exactly three seconds.
Every screen in the building—lobby TVs, elevator panels, even the cafeteria menu board—was playing the same clip on loop.
Me and Dae-Hyun.
Slow dancing.
Close.
Eyes locked.
His hand on my waist.
My hand on his shoulder.
Head almost touching.
Caption flashing: "CEO Kang's Mystery Date Lights Up Gala – Who Is She?"
Employees clustered.
Phones out.
Whispers everywhere.
"That's Miss Han!"
"They look… wow."
"Is she the girlfriend?"
"HR is gonna freak."
I froze.
Then bolted to elevator.
Pressed 33 nonstop.
Heart pounding.
8:55 a.m. – My Desk Disaster
Desk covered in printouts.
Screenshots.
Articles.
"Kang Group CEO Spotted in Intimate Dance with Beautiful Assistant"
"From Contract to Romance? Insider Sources Say Sparks Flying"
"#KangCouple Trending Nationwide"
Balloons from Min-Ho still there—mocking.
One gold one floating.
I dropped bag.
Stared.
Then door opened.
Dae-Hyun.
Suit gray today.
Expression storm.
He stopped.
Looked at chaos.
Then me.
"You saw."
"Yeah."
He walked in.
Closed door.
"Board called emergency meeting. 10 a.m."
I groaned. "Because of a dance?"
"Because of optics."
"Optics?"
"Company policy. No fraternization between executives and direct reports."
I blinked.
"We're not—"
"Yet."
Pause.
Heavy.
He stepped closer.
"They want explanation."
"What will you say?"
He looked at me.
Long.
"That you're excellent assistant."
"And?"
He smiled—small.
"That's all."
Liar.
I nodded.
"Good."
But eyes said more.
10:00 a.m. – Boardroom Bloodbath
Huge table.
Old men in suits.
Women too.
All staring.
Dae-Hyun at head.
Me standing side—assistant role.
Chairman Kim—70s, scary—cleared throat.
"Dae-Hyun ssi. The video."
Shown on big screen.
Our dance.
Slow.
Intimate.
Gasps.
I felt face burn.
Chairman: "Explain."
Dae-Hyun calm.
"Company gala. Networking. Dance with valued employee."
"Valued?" One director snorted. "Looked personal."
"Perception," Dae-Hyun said cool. "Reality is professional."
Another: "Policy clear. No relationships that compromise authority."
Dae-Hyun: "No relationship exists."
Lie?
Or truth?
My heart hurt.
Chairman: "Transfer her. Different department. Avoid scandal."
Dae-Hyun tensed.
"No."
Silence.
"Excuse me?"
"She's best assistant I've had. Transfer affects efficiency."
Director Lee: "Or you like her too much."
Dae-Hyun cold. "My personal life is private."
Chairman: "Not when viral."
Long debate.
Me silent.
Finally compromise.
"Probation. Three months. No alone time outside work. No favoritism. One mistake—she transfers."
Dae-Hyun nodded.
Stiff.
Meeting ended.
I left fast.
He caught arm in hall.
Private.
"You okay?"
"No."
He sighed.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Is."
I looked up.
"Why fight transfer?"
He met eyes.
"You know why."
Soft.
I felt tears.
"Dae-Hyun—"
"Go home. Paid day."
Boss mode.
But eyes soft.
I nodded.
Left.
2:00 p.m. – Min-Ho Dinner Disaster
Family restaurant.
Cozy.
Private room.
Min-Ho parents—warm, kind.
Mom hugged me.
"You're prettier than photos!"
Dad: "Min-Ho talks about you nonstop."
Min-Ho beamed.
Held my hand under table.
Dinner perfect.
Food great.
Stories funny.
They asked future.
Kids.
Marriage.
I smiled.
Polite.
But mind elsewhere.
On gray suit.
On dance.
On "no relationship exists."
Heart heavy.
Dessert.
Min-Ho: "Mom wants you over next weekend."
I hesitated.
"I… need time."
His face fell.
"Hyemi-ya…"
"I'm sorry. You're amazing. Family wonderful. But…"
Truth.
"There's someone else."
He nodded.
Slow.
"The boss?"
I didn't answer.
Enough.
He smiled—sad.
"Be happy."
Hugged goodbye.
Outside.
I cried in cab.
Not for him.
For mess.
For almost.
9:00 p.m. – Storm Returns
Rain poured.
Thunder.
I home.
Pajamas.
Wine.
Scrolling video.
Our dance.
Again.
Again.
Heart ache.
Doorbell.
I opened.
Dae-Hyun.
Soaked.
Suit wet.
Hair dripping.
Eyes wild.
"Dae-Hyun?"
He stepped in.
Closed door.
Looked at me.
"I couldn't stay away."
Voice rough.
Thunder cracked.
I stepped closer.
"You're wet."
"Don't care."
He reached.
Hands cup face.
Gentle.
Then—kissed.
Real.
Deep.
Desperate.
Everything.
I kissed back.
Hard.
Hands in hair.
His on waist.
Pulling close.
Years of tension.
Exploded.
Thunder.
Rain.
Us.
Minutes.
Or hours.
Broke apart.
Breathing hard.
Foreheads together.
"I lied," he whispered.
"About?"
"No relationship."
I laughed—teary.
"Good."
He kissed again.
Softer.
"I'm selfish."
"I know."
"Want you."
"Have me."
He pulled back.
Looked.
Serious.
"Board. Policy."
"Screw policy."
He smiled—real.
Big.
Then kissed forehead.
Nose.
Cheek.
Lips.
Slow.
We moved to sofa.
Sat.
Close.
Talking.
Finally.
About fear.
Abandonment.
Loss.
Me: parents.
Him: father.
Thunder comfort.
How I calm him.
How he protects me.
Quiet.
Honest.
Healing.
Midnight.
He stood.
"I should go."
"Stay."
Pause.
He nodded.
Slept on sofa.
Me in bedroom.
Door open.
Safe.
New.
Next Morning – Office Fallout
Viral worse.
#KangCouple number 1 trend.
Board furious.
But we walked in.
Together.
Not touching.
But together.
Smiles secret.
Coffee—he brought mine.
Iced.
Flowers—new ones on desk.
From him.
Single rose.
Red.
Card: "Mine."
I smiled.
He saw.
Smiled back.
War with board?
Coming.
But us?
Unstoppable.
Girlie Emergency Sleepover
My place.
Pizza.
Wine.
I told everything.
Kiss.
Stay.
Rose.
They screamed.
Cried.
Hugged.
"FINALLY!"
"ENDGAME!"
"Contract who?"
Laughed all night.