Author's Note: And the end, here's a glimpse into the Ri's lives years down the line.
Epilogue – Five Years Later
When I first saw you, I saw love
And the first time you touched me, I felt love
And after all this time, you're still the one I love
Looks like we made it, look how far we've come my baby
We might've took the long way; we knew we'd get there someday
There's music in the quiet lull of the night, a harmonious ebb and flow to the soft triad of inhales and exhales, the faint whisper of static from the baby monitors, the whoosh of cool air breezing past the air-conditioning vents. Ri Jeong-hyeok closes the door to the nursery gently, bare feet padding across the carpeted floor, past the wall of photographs Se-ri had designed last year and towards the bedroom at the end of the hallway. The largest frame in the center draws his attention for a moment; it always does. He pauses to study the snap of Se-ri walking down the makeshift aisle – a carpet of blush pink rose petals on pale golden sand – with her arm linked through her father's against a backdrop of Fesdu Island's crystal blue waters and clear skies.
She looks radiant, ethereal in her flowing white dress, a goddess with a train of chiffon trailing behind her like a whimsical dream. But that's not what makes the photo worthy of becoming the centerpiece of their array of memories. Se-ri is laughing, her eyes curved into that happy shape he loves, as a three-year-old Ri Si-woo wearing blue suspenders ambles down the aisle ahead of her, bearing their wedding rings in one chubby fist. Si-woo is grinning, a toothy adorably dimpled grin, his bright gaze focused on Jeong-hyeok at the altar. The photo is taken from behind him, from his vantage point, only showing his back, and Ri Jeong-hyeok remembers that moment from two years ago like it was yesterday. He remembers how full his heart felt when she reached his side, placed her hand in his, and they made their vows among ten of their closest friends and family.
You fell from the sky into my black-and-white world and everything burst into color.
They both cried, much to the distress and confusion of their little boy, who sniffled moodily in his grandmother's lap. It was a beautiful ceremony followed by an unforgettable week in their secluded villa with its private stretch of beach in the Maldives. The Yoons had taken Si-woo back to Seoul with them, and it was the first time they'd had so much alone time since his birth.
Relishing in the fond memories, he smiles a little to himself and continues down the hallway. He pushes the door to their bedroom open and steps into soft warm light and the familiar scent of Odnoliub. His wife is lying on her back in the middle of the bed, their three-wick candle burning steadily on the nightstand to her right.
"Are they all asleep?" Se-ri whispers, eyes half-closed.
Jeong-hyeok shuts the door silently. "Yes," he confirms. "The twins are out for a couple of hours, and Si-woo finally went to sleep."
"You're an angel," she sighs in relief, making him smile in amusement as he discards his t-shirt and slides into bed next to her, thoughts anything but angelic. Her half-lidded gaze widens to take him in hungrily, warm body sidling up to him under the covers, all long naked limbs and smooth skin. Jeong-hyeok pulls her close with a low growl, nuzzling the delicate curve of her neck. He loves the lingering scent of her perfume and bath soap. It's so distinctly Se-ri. "Tomorrow's a big day," she says, fingers combing through his dark hair tenderly.
He hums, presses a kiss to her cheekbone. "It's technically today. It's past midnight," he replies.
"I still can't believe your father is leading the peace talks delegation to Seoul," she muses, and Jeong-hyeok feels his heartbeat ratchet up a notch. It's surreal for him too. At some point over the years, he'd resigned himself to never seeing his family again. It's been a lingering sadness, a sense of irreplaceable loss, that he's learned to live with. After all, their sacrifice had given him this life with Se-ri and their children, and that's a tradeoff he'd take in a heartbeat any day. Then a few months ago, on his way home from work, Se-ri had messaged him a news clipping about the former Director of the North Korean General Political Bureau being appointed the formal representative for the Korean peace talks. He'd read the message while stopped at a red traffic light, five minutes from their house, unable to pick up the phone while she called him incessantly. The light had turned green and cars honked, rushing around him in their haste and he just sat there stunned into silence. His father would be coming to Seoul. When he regained his senses, called Se-ri back and drove home, he was greeted by a giggling Si-woo, as if the little boy could sense his joy and found it contagious.
Earlier today, Se-ri showed him another news article, this one announcing his father's arrival. Ri Chung-ryeol arrives in Seoul to begin his historic two-year term as the leader of the Korean Peace Talks. There was a picture in the article of his Abeoji disembarking from a private civilian jet with his Umma following closely behind. They looked older in the photo, and that made his heart ache. Still, they were such a dear sight that it brought tears to his eyes.
"I can't wait to see them," he says and meets her loving gaze with his own.
"I can't wait for the kids to meet them," she whispers, voice full of emotion, the candlelight flickering across her face like a halo.
"Me too," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her softly. He means for it to be just that – an innocent close-lipped press, but then she parts her lips on an inhale, a glance of hot air, and he slides his hand into her hair, long fingers tangling in the fragrant dark strands, opening his mouth over hers. The kiss turns wild; tongues curl and stroke, teasing, evoking, and she's suddenly pressed flush against him. He can feel the curves of her body molding into him through the flimsy material of her nightgown. It becomes a frenzy of touching. Jeong-hyeok runs both hands up the sides of her thighs, bunching the creamy white material at her waist, his tongue still buried in her mouth. She sucks his tongue evocatively, and he groans, breaks away for a second to pull her nightgown off because he desperately needs to feel her skin on his.
Se-ri lets out a breath of laughter. "Easy," she teases. "That's expensive."
Jeong-hyeok tosses the silk La Perla garment away nonchalantly, head cocked to the side as he stares down at her, eyes hot as flames licking over her nakedness. She has a moment of self-consciousness about the changes in her body after having the twins, about not being at her target postpartum weight yet, but her husband's burning gaze is aflame with so much desire that the moment slips away, forgotten. "Everything you have is expensive," he grumbles instead, taking a moment to kick off his underwear. "It's been a while," he hisses, teeth nipping at her ear as he cups her breast in one hand, the pad of his thumb circling her nipple, short nail scraping. She gasps, glories in how well he's learned her body, how he knows exactly how to touch her to bring her body to life.
It has been a while. "Six weeks," she sighs, lips feathering across his shoulder. She kneads the shifting muscles in his back, skimming over every inch of golden skin like she wants to relearn every scar and anomaly.
To her immense frustration, he pulls away to look into her eyes, his expression concerned. "Is it okay now?" he asks worriedly.
After the twins were born, her doctor advised them to avoid sex until she has completely healed. She vaguely remembers a period of abstinence following Si-woo's birth, but her brain must have forcibly blocked the memory of the sheer agony and frustration of having him there but not having him. Se-ri touches her fingertips to his cheek, his jaw, smiling at him mischievously. "I had my six-week postnatal check yesterday. Doctor Park gave me the all clear," she declares, wraps her arms around his neck and draws him back down into a rowdy kiss. He kisses her back, his hand digging into her hip when she bites down on his lower lip hard, but not hard enough to draw blood.
"Mm, playing rough?" he mutters, licking his own lip as he slides down her body, raking his teeth along her neck to her shoulder, down to the swell of her breasts. When he lowers his head, wetting her nipple with his tongue, she pushes him away slightly, covers his lips with two fingers. "Everything okay?" he asks.
Se-ri gives her very eager, very turned-on husband an awkward half-smile. "Yeah, it's just sensitive," she deflects.
His thumb finds the hard-tipped peak again, the touch featherlight this time. "In a bad way?" he prods, and it's amazing how well he can balance arousal with concern.
Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head no. "In a good way when you touch me, but your mouth, if you – the milk will…" she trails off with a telling blush that feels hot on her face, and when he visibly registers the unspoken part of that sentence, he's unable to hide his grin.
"Oh," he breathes, his thumb making another sweeping circle, eliciting another moan from her. "I didn't think of that. Those greedy little rascals want you all to themselves," he grouses playfully, weighs one breast in his hand, shaping it against his palm. And oh, oh – it feels incredible, to be touched with sexual intent, with the desire to please. He nips her jaw as his other hand quests lower, lower, and when he finds the center of her body, it's fireworks everywhere.
"I've missed you," she says huskily.
He groans as he parts her with his fingers, rubbing her entrance, thumb pressed to her clit. "You feel so good." And it's just that. The pressure she needs is suddenly barely there.
"Just-" she moans, lifts her hips off the bed, curving into his elusive hand, frustrated when he seems even further away than before.
"Easy," he coos, his dimpled smile smug and roguish. And God how she loves it, how she loves him.
"Tease," she accuses and reaches for him with wicked intent. When she wraps her hand around his erection, giving the smooth skin a firm tug, he growls and slides one finger into her. Se-ri arches off the bed at the intrusion, crushing her breasts to his heaving chest, her gasp lost in the torrid kiss he presses to her mouth.
"Se-ri-ya," he husks her name like a prayer, his bottom lip held captive between her teeth. "Play nice."
She laughs breathlessly, bites his lip harder when he slides another thick finger into her. This time she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, and he sucks in a sharp breath in pain. She licks at the small cut soothingly as his fingers pump into her, their rhythm dizzying. Her entire world narrows to that thrust, the press of his thumb, the wet heat of his breath at the side of her neck.
The air is so thick with their heavy breathing that the sound of a faint mewl crackling over the baby monitor feels magnified. It arrests them both. Jeong-hyeok's hand goes still inside her, and she holds her breath for a few seconds. She almost sighs in relief, but then there's the unmistakable cry of one of the twins. With a sound of undisguised frustration, he collapses on top of her, crushing her under his weight, fingers pulling out of her in a wet glide.
"Maybe two hours was a bit of a stretch," he notes grimly.
Se-ri chuckles at that, shifting uncomfortably as he lifts his body away from her, off the bed. She's wound so tight, and the sweet promise of release is fading as surely as Si-eun's cries are getting louder, more persistent. "Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow," she tells him, her fingers curling in the bed sheets.
One of his large hands closes over hers, loosening her firm grip. "What if she goes back to sleep quickly?"
The glimmer of optimism in his eyes is adorable, and Se-ri finds herself laughing again, reaching for him with her other hand. Her palm cups his cheek as she sits up, drawing him into a slow, drugging kiss that stretches for all of ten, blissful seconds. They duel for possession, pushing and pulling. His hand fists in her hair, holding her close when she pulls away to catch her breath. "Si-eun is not much of a sleeper, and we should probably get some sleep too. Tomorrow's a big day," she reminds him.
He nods and sighs in defeat. "I'll go get her."
Se-ri watches him put on his underwear and stride into their master bedroom's bathroom to wash up. It takes him a couple of minutes to make his way down the hallway, and then she hears him gently soothing the baby over the monitor as she pulls on her nightgown. Si-eun's cries quiet down when he lifts her into his arms, and a few seconds later he walks back into their room with the squirming pale yellow bundle in his arms.
"I think she's hungry," he murmurs, gazing down at her adoringly. When he reaches her side, he transfers their daughter into her arms carefully, like she's the most precious cargo he's ever delivered. "How did you know it wasn't Si-yoo?" he asks curiously as he settles into bed beside her.
"They cry differently."
He looks astonished. "They do?"
She hums and rubs her nipple gently against the baby's seeking lips. She latches on and starts to suckle slowly, tiny fist propped beside her chubby cheek. Jeong-hyeok runs his index finger lightly from the lobe of her little ear to the corner of her suckling mouth.
"It's amazing," he says softly, looking at the picture they make in wonder. She meets his mellow gaze with a smile of her own. This blissful place they're in feels so solid, but sometimes the happiness is so intense, it's almost fragile. "I wonder if the boys have kids," he says into the silence.
She thinks of Pyo Chi-su, Ju-meok, Kwang-beom, and Eun-dong, and a powerful wave of nostalgia washes over her. Saudade. "You know if your father's peace talks go well, we'd be able to see them soon," she tells him, unable to hide the sense of hope that's been building inside her. This really feels like a crossroad.
"I know. I feel like my parents being here has barely sunk in, much less the repercussions of what happens next."
She eyes him thoughtfully. "You're not going to get any sleep tonight, are you?"
He smiles bashfully, and it's all dimples and charm. It's been close to a decade, but Yoon Se-ri can honestly say Ri Jeong-hyeok is still her ultimate favorite. "Probably not," he admits.
"You know what else is tomorrow?"
"Hmm?" he hums in askance, his eyes riveted to the nursing baby.
"The Seoul Music Award nominations," she says and gives him a pointed look to which he shrugs nonchalantly. Ever since he joined Big Hit Entertainment four years ago, Jeong-hyeok – known officially in Seoul by the name on his official Chinese documents as Lee Jae-hyeok – has been recognized by music critics and enthusiasts alike as one of the most prolific music composers and producers to appear in the industry in years. He's brought to life some of the most famous artists' albums, and his preference to stay hidden behind the scenes feeds the monstrous egos around him. Watching him thrive in this new world has been beautiful for her. Self-effacing as he's been, she's always known that he's meant for great things. "I have it on good authority that you're being nominated for the Producer of the Year award," she confides conspiratorially, nudging his elbow.
He lifts his gaze to hers for a split-second, as though mildly amused by all these shenanigans around his music. "I just know I'll show up with the hottest date in town," he whispers, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her lips, his hand laid warmly across Si-eun's onesie-clad back. "You'll come?" he confirms.
"Of course," she huffs quietly. "I wouldn't want these K-pop divas to get any ideas."
He leans back against the headboard with a lopsided smirk, unduly pleased with himself. Se-ri knows he enjoys these little displays of jealousy, lighthearted as they are. Life has changed so much over the past five years, but sometimes he'll do something or say something, and he's still just that stoic soldier from Pyongyang – honest and honorable to a fault. "The only K-pop diva in our lives is Cha Sang-woo," he mutters darkly, bringing her back to this moment.
It's her turn to hide her tickled smile. Her ex-boyfriend had attempted to reconnect with her when Si-woo was just a year old. She and Jeong-hyeok were still in their dating and sex phase, which they kept low-key for the most part. Neither of them wanted to deal with the media scrutiny, and for him at the time, it was touchy that he should reappear in the South Korean media so soon after his falsified death in the North. With all this mystery and secrecy shrouding their relationship, Cha Sang-woo thought she was single, much to her beau's chagrin. The actor pursued her doggedly for a couple of months, waxing nostalgic about his admiration for single mothers as he was raised by one. It only stopped when he ran into Jeong-hyeok while waiting for her at her office. She's not entirely sure what conversation went down, but he never texted or showed up again. "He's an actor," she corrects cheekily. "And you scared him off."
"I only told him the truth," he retorts evenly.
"Which is?"
"That you're mine," he says, fierce and steady, his dark gaze possessive as it meets hers. "And I'm yours." Softer now, a solemn promise that brightens his eyes in the soft candlelight.
"Jeong-hyeok-ah," she murmurs feelingly.
"Hmm?" He wraps an arm around her, tucking her into his side. She rests her head against his broad shoulder, shifting some of Si-eun's sweet weight onto his chest pensively. It always feels like there's so many words stuck inside her. He's so much better at saying things that make her heart flutter.
"I always thought home was a place, a sanctuary from the world," she starts because I love you doesn't quite encompass everything he means to her, and tonight feels pivotal. Tomorrow is yet another new beginning in a world full of changes. "Then I met you and I learned that home is a person," she tells him. "It's you," she says softly, lifting her head to brush her lips against his. "You're my home, my sanctuary."
A/N: And with that, I've given these two in my heart an ending I can live with. Reviews are love x