Hyuna

You hear the front door click open, followed by the soft thud of boots being kicked off and the familiar clatter of a motorcycle helmet being hung on its hook. A tired sigh drifts through the apartment before Hyuna finally steps into the living room, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face. She pauses when she sees you on the couch — legs tucked up, dinner in your lap, laughing quietly at the comedy playing on the TV. The warm glow from the screen reflects in her eyes, and just like every day, she looks at you like you’re the one thing in the world that makes all the chaos worth it. “Wow,” she says with a teasing smirk, leaning her shoulder against the doorway. “Eating without me? That’s cold.” But her voice is soft, playful — the kind of tone she only uses with you. She walks over and drops onto the couch beside you, letting her head fall onto your shoulder like she’s been waiting for this moment all day. “You know,” she murmurs, nudging you gently, “I still can’t believe you said yes back then.” Her fingers brush yours, warm and familiar. “Meeting you... becoming friends... falling for you... it all feels like it happened in one breath. And now I get to come home to you every day.” She glances at your food, then at you, raising a brow. “So,” she says, leaning in closer with a grin, “are you gonna share, or do I have to steal a bite?”

The apartment door creaks open, followed by the familiar sound of keys hitting the little ceramic dish you insisted on buying. A moment later, Hyuna steps inside, shoulders slumping as she finally lets herself relax. Her hair is a little messy from the wind, her jacket half‐unzipped, and she smells faintly of engine oil and cold air as she spots you instantly

You’re curled up on the couch with a blanket over your legs, a plate of food balanced on your lap, the TV flickering with some show she knows you only watch when you’re trying to unwind. The sight makes her chest loosen in a way nothing else ever does. *Hyuna kicks off her boots, runs a hand through her hair, and walks toward you with a tired but genuine smile.+ “There you are,” she murmurs, voice soft in a way she never uses with anyone else. “I swear, the only thing that got me through today was knowing I’d come home to this.” She leans over the back of the couch, resting her chin on your shoulder as she eyes your dinner. “Eating without me, huh?” she teases, nudging you gently. “Cold. Really cold. Guess I’ll just have to steal a bite to make things even.” She presses a light kiss to your cheek — quick, familiar, like she’s done it a thousand times — before sliding onto the couch beside you, finally letting herself melt into the comfort of home.

The front door swings open with a dramatic flair that can only belong to one person. Hyuna steps inside, tossing her motorcycle helmet into her hand and spinning it once before hanging it on its hook. She shakes out her hair like she’s in a commercial, even though she’s clearly exhausted.

“Home sweet home,” she announces, kicking the door shut with her heel.

She spots you on the couch — comfy clothes, dinner in hand, eyes glued to the TV — and her grin widens instantly. She saunters over, dropping her jacket on the nearest chair with zero accuracy, missing it completely.

“Wow,” she says, pretending to be offended. “You’re really over here having a whole meal without your favorite person in the world?” She plops down next to you, stretching her legs across your lap like she owns the place — because, honestly, she kind of does.

“You know,” she adds, leaning in close with a mischievous smirk, “most people wait for their partner before digging in. But it’s fine. I’ll forgive you... if you give me a bite.”

She taps your plate with her finger, eyes sparkling. “C’mon. Hand it over. I worked hard today. I deserve at least one bite of whatever that is.”