Chapter 11: Farewell Fuck Under the Stars
The cold, polished air of the penthouse still clung to Hyukjae’s skin as he followed Gabby through a sliding glass door. It was like stepping into another world. Outside, the rooftop garden was a whisper against the city’s roar, a secret woven from ivy and soft light.
Fairy lights dripped from overhead trellises, their glow catching on the petals of a single, sprawling magnolia tree. They drifted down like slow snow, collecting on the dark stone path and the surface of a long, dark infinity pool that seemed to bleed into the Seoul skyline. The air was warm, artificially so, humming from heaters hidden among the ferns. It smelled of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine, a complete surrender from the sterile lemon of the study below.
Gabby led him by the hand. Her grip was tight, almost desperate. She didn’t speak until they reached a low, wrought-iron bench tucked beneath the magnolia. She pulled him down beside her, the city a dizzying tapestry of light behind him.
“Tell me everything,” she said, her voice low. “Every word.”
So he did. His hands moved in the space between them as he recounted it all—Rossi’s calculating eyes, the weight of the silver pen, the shock on her father’s face when he placed the contract on the desk. He told her about the goldfish, the way her father had gone still when he’d said it. He told her about the questions that followed, logistical and sharp, about apartments and obstetricians and visa paperwork.
“He said ‘work on the details,’” Hyukjae finished, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t throw me out. He didn’t call security.”
Gabby let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “He’s having it verified. The contract. He’ll have his lawyers in Milan dissecting it by morning.”
“Let them.”
“I know. It’s just… his way. He can’t accept something until he owns every fact about it.” She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the twinkling lights. “You really did it. You walked right in and… you talked to him like a man. Not like a boy he could scare.”
“I was terrified, noona.”
“I know.” She brought a hand to his cheek, her thumb stroking his jaw. “That’s why it matters.”
He turned his head, kissing her palm. The simple touch sent a current through him, a relief so profound it felt like pain. For weeks, every thought of her had been spliced with static—the fear of her father, the vast, unknown future. Now, for this moment, she was just here. Warm and real and his.
Her other hand slipped to the curve of her stomach, a habitual, protective gesture he’d seen a thousand times in his mind. Now he watched it happen. He saw the way her sweater draped over the gentle swell. A living, golden secret. His.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice rough.
She nodded, her eyes not leaving his.
He shifted on the bench, kneeling on the stone before her. He placed his hands where hers had been, over the soft wool. He waited. Nothing but the distant hum of the city and the quick beat of his own heart. Then he felt it—a soft, distinct flutter, a nudge against his palm from deep inside. Not a kick. A turn. A somersault.
“The goldfish,” he breathed, wonder cracking his voice open.
He looked up at her. Tears were tracking silently down her cheeks, but she was smiling. A real, full smile that reached her eyes for the first time in weeks. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her belly, his arms wrapping around her hips. He didn’t care how it looked. He held them. Both of them.
“I’m here,” he whispered to her skin, to the life beneath it. “I’m here.”
After a long moment, she ran her fingers through his hair. “Stand up,” she said softly.
He did. She stood with him, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders. She looked at the pool, its surface still and dark and warm. “I’ve never been in it,” she said. “It was always for show. Like everything else up here.”
Without another word, she stepped back from him. She pulled her sweater over her head in one smooth motion, letting it fall to the stones. The fairy lights caught the new, lush curves of her body, the beautiful, impossible arc of her stomach. She was watching his face, her own a mix of vulnerability and a defiant kind of pride. He knew, then. In the way she held his gaze, steady but unsure. The rumors at college, the confident persona… it had all been armor. This was her. Exposed. Trusting him with the truth she’d never given anyone else.
He undressed quickly, not out of haste, but out of a need to meet her in that honesty. His clothes joined hers on the ground. The night air was cool on his skin, but the heat from the pool area wrapped around them.
He took her hand, leading her the few steps to the water’s edge. They stepped down into it together. The water was bath-warm, rising to their chests as they moved to the far ledge where the infinity edge dropped away. The city sprawled beneath them, a galaxy laid at their feet.
She turned to him, her skin slick and glowing. She pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “Everything is about to change,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Seoul… my parents… college… all of it. It’s going to become a memory.”
“We’ll make new ones.”
“I know.” Her hands settled on his shoulders. “But I want one last memory here. Just us. Before we become people who live in Italy. Before we become parents.” She pulled herself closer, her body aligning with his in the weightless space. The swell of her belly pressed between them, a soft, insistent reality. “Right here, where I never felt free. I want to feel free with you.”
He understood. This wasn’t just about physical need, though that ache was a deep, throbbing presence in him. It was a reclaiming. A consecration. He kissed her, slow and deep, tasting the salt of her tears and the clean water on her lips. His hands slid down her back, over the dip of her spine, holding her steady against the gentle pull of the water.
She guided him, her movements slow, instinctive. When he entered her, she let out a shaking sigh against his neck. It wasn’t the frantic energy of their first time in the dark of his dorm room. This was something else entirely. A deep, rolling tide. She moved above him, her hips finding a rhythm that was less about friction and more about fusion. Each slow, deep roll was a word she didn’t have to say. Each one said I choose you, I trust you, this is us.
His hands gripped her hips, supporting her, following her lead. His world narrowed to the points where they were connected: the clutch of her body around his, the heat of her skin under his palms, the press of her stomach against his own. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the soft lap of water against the ledge.
She leaned forward, her lips at his ear. Her voice was a raw, trembling thread. “This is how I want to remember Seoul,” she whispered. “You. Here. Just like this.”
Her rhythm stuttered, intensified. He felt her begin to unravel, the tension in her thighs coiling tight before releasing in a series of deep, inner shudders. A sob broke from her lips, his name tangled in it. The sound unraveled him. His own release was a wave that dragged him under, a total surrender that left him clutching her to him, breathless and anchored only by her.
They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other in the warm water as their heartbeats slowed. The world quietly reassembled itself around them—the distant traffic, a siren, the scent of magnolia on the night breeze.
Finally, she stirred, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. “When do we go?” she murmured.
He kissed her damp hair. “The medical is in four days. My first training session is five days after that.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were clear now, resolved. “Then we leave in three.”
A jolt went through him. “Are you sure? Your things… your doctor here…”
“My things can be sent. I’ll find a doctor there.” Her hands framed his face. “You faced my father in his own office, Hyukjae. You gave me this.” She took his hand and placed it back on her stomach. “I’m not waiting in this cage another day. We have his permission. We have your contract. We have each other. Let’s just go.”
The fear was still there, a cold pebble in his gut. But it was outweighed by a fierce, soaring joy. He saw it reflected in her eyes—not just happiness, but a hard-won freedom.
“Okay,” he said, the word feeling vast and monumental. “Okay. We go in three days.”
She nodded, sealing the pact with a soft, final kiss. They climbed out of the pool, the cooler air raising goosebumps on their skin. They dried each other with the soft towels left folded on a bench, their movements quiet, domestic. They dressed in silence, the weight of their decision settling around them not as a burden, but as a purpose.
From the rooftop, Seoul glittered, indifferent. It was no longer the city that held them. It was just a place they were leaving. Together. Hand in hand, they walked back toward the glass door, leaving the fairy lights and the scattered magnolia petals behind. The warmth of the water still clung to their skin, a secret heat they carried with them into the cool, polished darkness of the penthouse. The countdown had begun.