LET'S CONTINUE FROM WHERE I LEFT........

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AUTHOR'S POV

The quiet hum of the secret room was filled with the scent of skin, sweat, and something fragile—like trust being whispered between tangled bodies.

Their clothes lay scattered across the small velvet couch and soft carpet, the fairy lights above casting a golden haze across the dim corners. Somewhere beneath the weight of thick blankets, their bodies had finally stopped trembling.

Yoongi held her. Not possessively—but protectively. Her head rested against his bare chest, lips parted slightly, breath slow and deep from the exhaustion of love. His fingers traced lazy, soothing circles on her shoulder, her thigh draped over his.

She had whispered against his skin before drifting off.

"I saved it for you. I know you're still a virgin... I'm your first.

Yoongi had kissed her hair and said nothing, but the lump in his throat stayed long after her breathing softened into sleep. She didn’t know what it meant for someone like him—someone so composed, so careful—to finally fall apart like that, but she would. One day.

Gently, he peeled himself away from her warmth.

She stirred but didn’t wake.

He reached for the soft wipe tissues from the cabinet he had specifically stocked for her—he always thought of everything when it came to her. Cleaning her with quiet tenderness, Yoongi moved slowly, respectfully, not wanting to break the delicate silence of the moment. He kissed her temple once, pulled the blanket over her shoulders, and tucked a pillow beneath her arm so she'd feel like he was still beside her.

Then he slipped back into his black shirt and pants, fixed his watch, ran a hand through his messy hair, and stepped out of their hidden world… into the cold, polished elegance of his CEO cabin.

The shift was immediate.

The man who emerged from the secret door was Min Yoongi—intimidating, powerful, always in control. Except today… something was different.

He was smiling.

Not the half-smirk that scared interns.

Not the polite twitch of his lip for board meetings.

A real smile.

Minji looked up from her desk and blinked. “Sir?”

Yoongi paused in front of her, adjusting his sleeves casually. “I’m heading to the canteen.”

The room stilled.

“You… what?” she said slowly, like she misheard.

“I’m grabbing lunch.”

Minji stared at him as if he’d just declared bankruptcy. “Sir, you never go to the canteen.”

He turned toward the elevator with the faintest shrug. “First time for everything.

---

The Min Corporation Canteen – 2:10pm

The room fell silent the moment he walked in.

Forks paused mid-air.

Sandwiches were lowered.

Staff exchanged looks with wide eyes and hurried whispers.

Min Yoongi. In the canteen. In person.

He never came down here. Ever. His meals were delivered precisely at 1:35 pm to his office, where he usually ate alone, papers spread across his desk, jazz humming low in the background. But here he was now, scanning the food trays like a normal employee.

He barely glanced at the menu board.

Instead, he walked up to the counter with calm precision and asked, “Do any of these have peanuts?”

The lady behind the counter blinked, confused. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Peanuts. Or peanut oil. Anything.” His tone wasn’t harsh—but it was commanding.

“I—I think the paneer salad has a peanut dressing. The sandwich too. But these here are safe,” she stammered, pointing.

Yoongi inspected the food. He took exactly one vegetable rice box, grabbed a small fruit bowl, and two packets of sealed buttermilk.

Then, with careful eyes, he checked the packaging again.

Not because he was picky.

Because she was allergic.

He didn’t trust anyone else to bring her food. Not when it came to her.

She hated peanuts. Her throat closed up within minutes. And she never mentioned it unless asked, always brushing it off.

So now, he asked. Every time. Even if it meant leaving his high tower and walking into a sea of staring eyes and hushed gossip.

Back in his office, he walked into the secret room softly, like he was entering a sacred place.

She was still asleep, the blankets slightly slipping down her shoulder. One arm curled under her cheek, lashes fanned across flushed cheeks. Her bare foot peeked out, toes curled.

He placed the food on the side table, then quietly knelt beside the bed.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"You’re safe," he whispered.

"With me."

He watched her for another minute.

And when she stirred, slowly opening her eyes with that dreamy sleep-laced smile, the first thing she whispered was—

"You came back."

He kissed her knuckles.

“Always.”

---

The sky had already dipped into a deep indigo when the car pulled up outside the Min family home. The distant city buzz faded behind them as they stepped onto the porch.

Yoongi looked relaxed—but that was just on the surface.

Inside, he was still burning.

Not with guilt.

But with the memory of her—of them.

He helped her out of the car like a gentleman, brushing his thumb along her fingers briefly as if to say, "I’m still thinking about it."

YN met his eyes and smiled softly, cheeks tinted pink as if she knew exactly what was playing in his head.

The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by the smell of home-cooked food.

“YN, Yoongi! You're late, go freshen up quickly and come down for dinner,” called her mother, Hana, from the dining room.

“Coming, eomma!” YN replied sweetly, slipping off her sandals.

Yoongi gave a polite nod to her mother. “I'll be down in a minute, noona.”

But behind his polite façade, he was struggling to hold his smile in.

He tried. Really, he did.

But his lips kept twitching upward—every time he glanced at YN as she headed toward her room, every time he remembered how she had looked beneath him just hours ago… soft, whispering his name like a prayer, trembling in his arms.

He was so lost in his daze that he didn’t notice Hyungwoo, her father, watching him.

“Yoongi-ah,” Hyungwoo said, slightly squinting at him. “What’s with the big smile? You look like a man who won the lottery.”

Yoongi blinked, immediately straightening his expression.

“I—uh, got that deal I’ve been praying for,” he lied smoothly, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Seoul expansion project.”

Hyungwoo’s face lit up. “Ahh! That’s great news! I knew you would. Come, come, we’ll celebrate with soju next weekend.”

“Of course, hyung,” Yoongi said, bowing slightly and forcing a neutral expression as he headed upstairs to not let his thoughts drift back to her curves pressed against his chest, to her sleepy smile, to her voice gasping his name—

Later that night...

The house was silent. The lights were out. Everyone had long gone to bed.

But Yoongi couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his side, dressed in a plain charcoal-gray t-shirt and soft black pajama pants. His hair was slightly messy from all the tossing and turning, and his arm rested across his forehead as he stared at the ceiling.

“Damn it, YN...

His mind kept replaying the way her body had melted under his touch. The way she whispered, “I saved it for you,” like it meant everything in the world—and it did.

And her sleepy voice after? Her scent still clung to him like a second skin.

Unable to stop himself, Yoongi reached for his phone on the nightstand and dialed her number.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

He was about to give up—just ready to sulk into his pillow—when the line finally connected.

A muffled, sleepy voice whispered, “Hello...?”

His heart jumped.

“Baby, it’s me…” he said quietly, like a teenager sneaking a late-night call.

Her voice was heavy with sleep. “Yoon… I’m sleeping…”

His pout was almost audible. “But I missed you.”

A pause.

Then, “Yoongi… my room is literally next to yours.”

“I know,” he said, half-laughing. “But you always sleep fast, and I hate that I can’t cuddle you here.”

Another pause. Then her tired voice replied, soft and blunt—

“Then just come here. Why are you even calling? You know I’m sleepy.”

Yoongi chuckled. “If your father sees me sneaking into your room at this hour, I’ll be a dead man. A publicly executed dead man.”

“Then go and sleep…” she grumbled. “And let me sleep too.”

But Yoongi wasn’t done. He whined like a child this time. “But I miss you. I wanna hold you. Pleaseeee...”

There was a long sigh on the other end.

“Fine. Come. The door’s open.”

Yoongi slipped out of bed, walking barefoot across the hallway, careful not to step on the creaky floorboards. His heart thumped—not from fear, but from the sheer excitement of seeing her again, even if she’d already be asleep.

He gently pushed her door open.

The room was dim, bathed in a soft peach glow from the tiny nightlamp on her desk. The air smelled like her—fresh lavender and something sweet.

YN was curled up on her side, wearing a loose white cotton tee with tiny pink hearts on it and pastel blue shorts. Her hair was messy, her cheek squished against the pillow, arms hugging a stuffed bunny.

Yoongi smiled, whispering under his breath. “So cute…”

He tiptoed over and slid into the bed behind her, wrapping one arm gently around her waist and pulling her close.

She stirred only slightly, mumbling, “Took you long enough.”

He grinned, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I brought my favorite pillow,” he whispered against her skin.

She only sighed and snuggled closer, already drifting back to sleep.

Yoongi pressed a soft kiss to her nape. “Goodnight, baby…”

And finally, with her body warm against his and her soft breathing in sync with his, he slept.

Peacefully.

Completely.

Because there, in her bed, hidden from the world but cradled in her love—he was home.

---

He pouted and climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His lips found her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to her bare skin. She shivered a little but didn’t speak.

Yoongi couldn’t help it. He kissed her again, lower this time—just where her neck met her shoulder. She wriggled slightly, giggling in her sleep. “Yoon… that tickles…”

---

His eyes moved from her sleeping face to the curve of her shoulder exposed slightly under the blanket. He leaned in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to her bare shoulder.

Then another to her neck.

Then—just near her ear.

YN squirmed suddenly, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she whispered, “Yoon... that tickles.”

Yoongi chuckled against her skin, clearly doing it on purpose now, planting small teasing kisses along her collarbone. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, voice deep and low, “You’re too cute.”

Just as she let out another sleepy giggle, a familiar voice echoed from the hallway.

"YN?!" her mom, Hana, called from outside. "Are you talking to someone?”

Her eyes widened, but Yoongi—being Yoongi—quickly ducked down and buried his face into the crook of her neck, trying not to laugh but failing miserably as his breath hit her skin.

YN quickly pulled the blanket higher over both of them and called back, trying to steady her voice, “No, eomma! I was just...watching something funny on my phone.”

“Okay,” Hana replied from outside, “Come downstairs if you need anything.”

As the footsteps faded, YN turned to face Yoongi who was still hiding in her neck, trying so hard not to make a sound.

She smacked his chest lightly. “You’re such a baby,” she whispered, giggling.

Yoongi looked up with that mischievous smile of his. “You handled that like a pro, baby.”

“Because you almost got us caught,” she whispered back, cheeks red, lips tugging into a smile.

He leaned closer, nose brushing hers. “Worth it.”

And before she could say another word, he softly pecked her lips—gentle, warm, and filled with affection. She smiled into the kiss, their foreheads resting together as they lay tangled in sheets, hearts full.

STAY TUNE FOR PART 3 OF THIS....