Chasing Perfection || Lee Know

Fragments of The Past

The penthouse was sleek and modern, yet eerily impersonal. Everything was arranged too perfectly, with no sign of life, no warmth. It felt more like a luxurious showroom than a place someone actually lived in.

Which was about to change. Like right now. 

Minho and Hyejin were in the middle of unpacking, sorting through the last of the boxes that had been delivered earlier in the day. Hyejin, being Hyejin, took it upon as her personal mission to "fix" the place—adjusting furniture slightly, swapping out the sterile decorative pieces for ones that actually felt human.

Minho watched her warily as she moved a lamp two inches to the left. "You're messing up my entire setup."

"You didn't have a setup," she countered. "This place looks like a high-end prison cell. I'm giving it character."

"By making my books crooked?"

"By making your life better."

They bantered back and forth as they unpacked, the atmosphere light, until Hyejin pulled something unexpected from one of the boxes.

A framed photo.

Minho and Hana.

The picture was old, slightly faded at the edges. Minho was smiling—really smiling, the way he rarely did in photos. And next to him was Hana, her arm loosely wrapped around his. They looked... happy.

Hyejin felt an odd sensation in her chest. Not jealousy. It wasn't that. But something didn't sit right.

She glanced at Minho, and that's when she saw it—his expression had shifted. His gaze lingered on the photo for a second too long, his jaw tightening just slightly. There was dismay there, but also something else. Regret?

Hyejin hesitated before finally asking, "You never really told me about her."

Minho's eyes flickered up to meet hers. His expression was unreadable now, guarded. "There's nothing to tell."

"You dated her."

"I did."

"Were you two really something?"

Minho exhaled, rubbing his fingers over his brow. "Hyejin—"

"I just mean," she tried again, keeping her voice even, "you and I were something before you left. And then you started dating her. It just... doesn't add up."

Minho didn't answer right away. Then, finally, he said, "It's in the past."

It was such a clean, final dismissal that Hyejin didn't push further. Maybe this wasn't the best time.

She placed the frame on the side table, neither confrontational nor accusatory. Just there, because it was his, not hers, his. 

Minho stared at it for a moment before muttering, "I should have thrown this out."

His voice was casual, but the hesitation before he turned the frame down didn't go unnoticed.

They didn't talk about it after that. Instead, they fell back into routine, finishing the unpacking, sharing soft laughter, bad jokes, sneaking slow, lazy kisses that made the tension fade—at least for now.

8:56 pm

Night had settled over the city, and Hyejin was in the kitchen, humming absentmindedly as she worked on dinner. The smell of garlic and simmering sauces filled the air, making the cold penthouse feel slightly warmer.

She had just set the spoon down when she heard it.

Minho's voice.

Sharp. Clipped. Muffled from behind his study door, but unmistakably angry.