Just A Few Numbers Away

Chapter 116

The Not-So-Silent Celebration

The sunlight hitting the Hannam The Hill master suite was unusually bright for a Saturday morning.

Aen stirred, reaching instinctively for the other side of the bed, but the sheets were already cool, the fabric smoothed down where a body should have been.

​For a second, the old "Logistics Queen" panic flared—had she slept through her alarm?

Had she missed a final wedding walkthrough?

Then, memories of the last forty-eight hours came rushing back, heavy and blurred.

The 38.9°C fever on Thursday had been the worst of it, leaving her shivering under three duvets even as her skin felt like it was on fire.

​Through the haze, she remembered Yoongi's constant, grounding presence.

He hadn't left her side, trading his work for cold compresses and a thermometer.

He had stayed up half the night by her side, stroking her hair whenever she stirred, murmuring soft, steady reassurances when the chills grew too intense.

He had been the one to force the electrolytes and the bitter medicine down her throat, his eyes dark with a worry he tried to hide behind a mask of calm, efficient care.

By Friday, the quiet haze of Netflix and peppermint tea had taken over.

Once her fever had finally broken, she had practically forced him out the door.

She had been adamant: she didn't want him taking any more emergency leave that might risk delaying his discharge date.

She wanted his military service finished exactly on schedule, with no setbacks, so their future could finally begin without a countdown.

He'd gone reluctantly, only after making her promise to text him every hour, balancing his office responsibilities with a constant stream of "Check your vitals" messages.

But he'd made one thing clear: Saturday was for her, and her alone.

​The door creaked open just an inch, and the faint, sweet scent of fresh strawberries and chantilly cream drifted in before he did.

​Yoongi appeared, looking softer than the world ever saw him.

He wore his favorite grey lounge set, his hair unstyled and a bit messy—that way Aen secretly loved—because it meant he was just Yoongi, not the agent, not the icon.

In his hands was a small, perfectly frosted strawberry shortcake with a single, flickering candle.

​"Happy birthday to you," he sang, his voice low and gravelly, the kind of "morning voice" that still made Aen's heart skip after all this time.

"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, my dear Aen-ah... Happy birthday to you."

​Aen propped herself up, a sleepy, genuine smile tugging at her lips.

She felt weak, but the bone-deep ache of the flu was finally gone.

"You're already up? And with a cake?"

​"I had it delivered to the security gate at 7:00 AM," he admitted, sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress so as not to jostle her.

"I wanted to make sure you got as much rest as possible after that fever finally let go of you. Sleep was the priority, but I wasn't going to let the morning pass without this."