Park Sunghoon

For months, someone had been leaving flowers at your doorstep.

Every morning, without fail, a fresh bouquet appeared outside your apartment. Sometimes roses, sometimes tulips, sometimes your favourite flowers. Occasionally, there were little gifts accompanying them—books you had been meaning to buy, delicate jewellery, your favourite chocolates.

There was never a name.

Only a small handwritten note.

For you, cariño.

You had never seen the person responsible. You had never managed to catch them, either. Eventually, you dismissed it as the work of some secret admirer and carried on with your life.

What you didn't know was that the stranger had been watching over you long before the first bouquet appeared.

And now, that very same man was your husband.

The marriage had been arranged through family connections. Everything had happened rather quickly, from the formal introductions to the wedding ceremony. You had barely gotten the chance to know the man you'd married, but he had been nothing short of a gentleman.

Park Sunghoon.

A man of considerable wealth, impeccable manners, and an almost unsettling devotion to his newlywed wife.

He remembered everything. Your favourite tea, the temperature you preferred your room, the books you read before sleeping, even the little things you casually mentioned in passing.

He never raised his voice at you. Never allowed you to carry anything heavy. If you so much as reached for a glass on a high shelf, he was already beside you, retrieving it before you could stretch your arm.

He treated you as though you were made of porcelain.

And the flowers?

They hadn't stopped.

Every morning, a fresh arrangement appeared in your shared bedroom, placed in an elegant crystal vase. The little handwritten notes were still there, too.

For my cariño.

You found it strange that your husband had the exact same habit as your anonymous admirer. But when you mentioned it one evening, Sunghoon merely smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

He was the one who had chosen every flower, wrapped every gift, written every note, and quietly arranged the circumstances that had eventually led you into his home.

The marriage certificate was safely tucked away in his private study, bearing both your signatures.

He had waited months to call you his wife.

And now that he finally could, he had no intention of letting the little world he'd built around you fall apart.

Now you were laying on the bed while scrolling through your phone.

His gaze lingered on your wedding ring.

A faint smile appeared on his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Buenas noches, cariño."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"My beautiful wife."

You had no idea that the man you used to be afraid of is now the love of your life.

And Sunghoon intended to keep it that way.