Chasing Perfection || Lee Know

Epilogue

2 years later:

The morning started out like any other—at least, it was supposed to.
The sun was spilling through the curtains, scattering soft gold across the kitchen counters, and Hyejin was bustling about, already dressed for work, sliding her hair into a loose bun as she packed her knives into her roll.

Minho, however, wasn't himself.

He sat at the table with his coffee untouched, staring at it like it might give him an answer to the million thoughts racing through his head. His fingers tapped restlessly against the mug, his jaw tight, his tie slightly crooked. He'd already changed shirts twice, though Hyejin hadn't noticed—yet.

"Why do you look like you're about to go defend a thesis?" she asked finally, pausing mid-step and narrowing her eyes at him. "You've been staring at your coffee for ten minutes, Minho. It's not going to drink itself."

He jolted, looking up too quickly. "Huh? What? I—I'm fine. Totally fine."

"Uh-huh." She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with that sharp gaze that used to terrify him back when they were rivals in class. "You're never 'fine' when you say it like that. What's going on?"

Minho scrambled, raking a hand through his hair. "Nothing. Work stuff. You know. CEO things."

"CEO things," she repeated, deadpan. "Right. The kind of CEO things that make you fidget like a teenager caught sneaking into a bar."

He gave her his best attempt at a smile, the one that usually worked on board members and even stubborn investors. On her? It didn't land. "You're imagining things, Jinnie. Really. I'm fine."

She stared at him another beat, then sighed, rolling her eyes. "If you faint in the middle of the day from caffeine deprivation because you've been too busy glaring at your cup, don't expect me to pity you."

He chuckled a little too quickly, pushing the mug away. "Noted."

Still, as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, Hyejin couldn't help glancing back. Something was off. She could feel it in the air between them. But if Minho wasn't talking... well, she'd drag it out of him later.

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

At the hotel, her day slipped into its usual rhythm. Orders flying in, knives clattering against cutting boards, ovens roaring with life. As head chef, she thrived in the chaos, orchestrating every station with ease.

But even here, something was... strange.

Felix, their pastry chef and her best friend, was acting suspiciously cheerful. Which wasn't unusual—he was sunshine personified—but today, he was practically glowing. Smirking, humming to himself, eyes twinkling like he knew a secret.

"You're in a mood," Hyejin muttered as she passed him, eyeing the too-perfect pastries lined up at his station. "What, did someone sneak you an extra bubble tea this morning?"

Felix didn't even look up, just piped another swirl of cream with ridiculous precision. "Maybe. Maybe not."

She frowned. "What does that even mean?"

He grinned, finally glancing at her. "Just means life's sweet, bae. You'll see."

Her eyes narrowed. "...Why do I feel like you know something I don't?"

Felix only smirked wider, biting back laughter. "Because I probably do."

"Felix—"

"Head Chef!" one of the line cooks called from across the kitchen, pulling her attention away.