It was never supposed to be like this.

Jeon panted, his breath hot against her neck. "Ah... fuck." His voice was low, strained, as he held her against the desk. He had only stopped by to check in, to see how she was doing. But the moment he saw her—sitting there so effortlessly, her clothes hugging every perfect curve, her hair catching the light just right—self-control became impossible.

Jeon watched as her head fell forward onto the desk. He caught her chin, tilting it up so she could meet his gaze in the mirror. "Look at me, baby."

It was overwhelming. Seeing himself in her reflection, watching every expression flicker across her face—one more beautiful than the last.

This woman had him in a chokehold. Not even breaking up could keep him away. She had been everything. She cared, she understood him in ways no one else could.

"Jeon!" His girlfriend’s sharp voice yanked him from his thoughts.

"Are you even listening?"

He coughed, straightening up. "Of course."

She rolled her eyes. "My god. You never listen."

Jeon exhaled slowly, looking off to the side. This is irritating. He and his ex had only fallen back into bed together because—well... Shit.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her. But how could he not? He never wanted to end things. It was never his intention. They just... stopped communicating. People kept pushing them apart, feeding them lies, stirring the pot. And eventually, it worked.

Fuck, I miss her.

His girlfriend’s voice cut through again, snapping him back to reality. He flinched slightly, forcing a nervous smile.

"Sorry, baby. Just a little tired."

He turned his head toward the window. There she was. She was walking—laughing—with some guy. Jealousy hit him like a truck, twisting in his gut. His jaw tightened as he tried to track her with his eyes. Then, clearing his throat, he turned back to his girlfriend, forcing another smile.

The party was loud, chaotic. It was his girlfriend’s birthday, and she had already run off somewhere with her "gay" friend—though Jeon had his doubts. The guy didn’t look or act the part.

Jeon stood in the corner, watching, sipping on his drink. Then, he saw her. She was in the crowd, dressed simply—shorts and a tank top. Nothing flashy. But damn. Even in something so effortless, she was stunning. More breathtaking than the northern lights.

He wanted her back. Badly.

Before he could overthink it, he moved, pushing through the sea of drunk strangers. When he reached her, he tapped her shoulder.

She turned. That same bright, beautiful smile.