The flowerbed - Aespa's Giselle x M!Reader

The morning light

Dawn painted Seoul in gentle watercolors as I pulled into the company parking garage. My first full day back, and already the familiar routine felt different. Everything felt different.

The weight of my father's watch on my wrist was new - a constant reminder of what I'd lost, what I'd gained, how time kept moving whether we were ready or not. I sat in my car for a moment, gathering strength for what lay ahead.

A gentle tap on my window made me jump. Giselle stood there, two coffee cups in hand, concern written in the soft lines of her face. I hadn't expected anyone this early.

"Thought you might need this," she said as I stepped out, offering one of the cups. Our fingers brushed as I accepted it, and she didn't pull away immediately. "It's your usual order. From our place."

"How did you know I'd be early?" The coffee was perfect - she'd even remembered the extra shot I always added on difficult days.

"Because I know you," she said simply. Her free hand found mine, squeezing gently. "And I didn't want you walking in alone."

The lump in my throat made it hard to respond. Instead, I linked our fingers properly, letting her quiet presence ground me as we walked toward the building.

The practice room was empty when we arrived, but evidence of the others' thoughtfulness was everywhere. Winter had reorganized the schedule board, color-coding everything for easier processing. A stack of sealed energy drinks sat by my usual spot - Ningning's contribution, with a note in her messy handwriting: "In case coffee isn't enough!"

"They've been planning," Giselle explained softly, watching me take in the small changes. "We all wanted to make today easier."

"I don't deserve-" I started, but she cut me off with a gentle touch to my arm.

"You do," she said firmly. "You deserve everything we can give you. More."

The practice room door opened before I could respond. Winter entered, looking unsurprised to find us there early.

"Good, you found him," she said to Giselle, then turned to me with unusual gentleness. "The morning schedules are lighter this week. I handled some of the coordination calls yesterday."

"You didn't have to-"

"Yes, we did." She moved to the schedule board, adjusting something with her usual precision. "You take care of us. Let us take care of you for once."

Ningning arrived next, practically bouncing despite the early hour. But instead of her usual aegyo, she simply gave me a tight hug before starting her stretches. Her quiet support somehow meant more than any words.

Karina was last, every inch the professional leader until she saw me. Then her composure cracked just slightly, and she pulled me into a brief, fierce hug.

"Welcome home," she whispered, and I heard everything she wasn't saying.

The morning practice passed in a blur of familiar motions. They worked hard as always, but I noticed the small ways they'd adapted. Water breaks that conveniently coincided with moments I seemed overwhelmed. Casual touches of support when passing by. Quick glances to check on me.

During one break, I found myself sorting through music files, a task that suddenly felt monumental. Winter appeared silently beside me, taking half the stack without comment.

"My dad used to do this," I said suddenly, surprising myself. "Sort through music. He had this massive vinyl collection, all perfectly organized. Used to drive my mom crazy with how particular he was about it."

Winter's hands stilled, but she didn't speak, just listened.

"He's the one who taught me to appreciate arrangements, to hear all the layers in a song." My voice cracked slightly. "He would have loved your harmonies in 'Whiplash.'"

"Tell me more about him?" she asked softly, and somehow that broke something loose in my chest.

I found myself talking as we worked - about my father's music collection, his terrible dad jokes, his unwavering support of my unconventional career choice. Winter listened, occasionally asking quiet questions, her presence steady and grounding.

By lunch, I'd shared different memories with each member. Ningning heard about his legendary cooking disasters. Karina learned about his business advice that had somehow prepared me for management. And Giselle... Giselle heard about his final words, about what matters most.

"He was right, you know," she said softly as we walked to get coffee. "About people being what matter most."

The familiar path to our coffee shop felt different now. Minjoo-noona took one look at us and wordlessly started preparing our usual orders, adding an extra cookie to the bag.

"On the house," she said firmly when I tried to pay. "For family."

We settled into our usual corner, the quiet buzz of the café wrapping around us like a comfort blanket. Giselle's knee pressed against mine under the table, a subtle point of contact that anchored me to the present.

"I have something to show you," she said suddenly, pulling out her phone. "We... we weren't sure if we should, but..."

She pulled up a video, and my breath caught. It was from their daesang performance - not the official broadcast, but someone's fancam. The moment they announced aespa's win, the camera caught my reaction in the wings. The pride, the joy, the tears I hadn't bothered hiding.

"Winter recorded it," Giselle explained softly. "She said... she said your dad should see how much you loved your job. How good you are at it."

I watched as on-screen me celebrated with them, pulled into a group hug despite professional boundaries. Watched the pure happiness on all our faces, the family we'd become without quite realizing it.

"We sent it to your sister," she continued, her voice gentle. "She showed him, in the hospital. She said... she said he smiled. Said he was proud of you."

The tears came then, quiet but unstoppable. Giselle's hand found mine under the table, holding on as I finally let myself break a little.

"He knew," she whispered, her thumb tracing patterns on my palm. "He knew you were exactly where you were meant to be."

Later, back at the company, I found a small package on my desk. Inside was a framed photo - the whole group at the award show, pure joy radiating from every face. But it was the handwritten note beneath that broke me:

"Family isn't always blood. Sometimes it's the people who see you at your worst and still choose to stay. Who hold you up when you can't stand alone. Who make space for your grief while helping you remember joy.

Welcome home.

- Your girls"

I recognized Winter's handwriting, Ningning's heart doodles in the corners, Karina's precise signature, and Giselle's gentle words.

My phone buzzed with a message from my sister: "Dad would have loved them."

Looking at the photo, at these incredible women who had somehow become my family, I knew she was right.

Some things break us. But sometimes, in the breaking, we find pieces of ourselves we didn't know we needed. Find people who help us rebuild, stronger than before.

"Manager-nim?" Giselle's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She stood in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun. "Ready?"

I looked at her - really looked at her - and felt something settle in my chest. A certainty, a rightness, a knowing.

"Yeah," I said softly, standing to join her. "I'm ready."

She smiled, that gentle smile that had become my lighthouse, and held out her hand.

And together, we stepped into whatever came next.

Behind us, the framed photo caught the sunlight, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we're never truly alone.

We just have to let the right people in, let them help us heal. Let them become home.