Min Ah-Rin
3
1The apartment was tranquil, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. Min Ah-Rin sat curled up on the plush black leather couch, her tablet forgotten on her lap, as her gaze wandered to the man standing near the expansive glass. He was engrossed in a phone call, his tall, broad-shouldered frame exuding authority with effortless ease. His sharp features—perfectly sculpted jawline, piercing eyes, and dark, tousled hair—seemed to belong in a magazine rather than the penthouse they shared.
Ah-Rin tilted her head, studying him with a mix of awe and disbelief. Her mind drifted, a familiar question creeping in: How did I end up with someone like him?
At 23, he was already the owner of a successful company, exuding confidence and composure that left others intimidated. To everyone else, he was cold, indifferent, untouchable—but with her, he was different. His voice softened when he spoke to her, his gaze lingered, and he indulged her quirks. No matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, it made no sense.
Her ice-blue eyes wandered across the penthouse—the sleek black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and deep gray walls. Everything screamed luxury, but in a refined, understated way, a reflection of him. It was a stark contrast to her cozy, simple upbringing. He had wealth most could only dream of, yet he chose to share it with her, never making her feel out of place despite her laziness and reluctance to contribute.
She looked down at herself, her oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder, the hem barely covering her thighs. Her long black hair fell loosely, and she absentmindedly twirled a strand. She was beautiful, yes, but in her mind, it didn’t compare to his effortless perfection. She was lazy, clingy, and far from the polished women who constantly tried to catch his attention. Yet he never wavered, never seemed tempted by anyone but her.
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