Meet Lalisa Manoban, known to the world as LISA, a top supermodel with a deep dislike for men who cross the line.
But everything changes when she meets a mysterious man-one who carries an air of danger and power. She has no idea that this encounte...
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It was barely six when I woke up.
The house was quiet, bathed in that gentle, sleepy blue of early morning. I slipped out of bed, wrapped by my comfortable pajamas, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. I figured I'd get started on breakfast before Jungin stirred. He usually woke around eight, sometimes later if he stayed up drawing under the blanket.
I had just tied my hair up in a bun when the doorbell rang.
My brows furrowed. Who would be here this early?
I moved to the door, thinking who it was for a second before unlocking and pulling it open.
And there he was.
Jungkook.
Standing under the soft morning light, car parked neatly by the curb, holding two large brown paper bags in both hands. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd rushed out in a hurry. He looked up, eyes meeting mine-and smiled.
"Good morning," he said. "I, uh... brought groceries."
My gaze dropped to the bags. "Groceries?"
He nodded, sheepish but hopeful. "I wanted to make breakfast."
I blinked. "You cook?"
He chuckled. "Decently. Not gourmet, but enough to keep your kitchen from burning down."
I folded my arms. "He's still asleep, you know. Wakes up at eight."
At that, Jungkook's grin widened. "Good. Gives me time to cook something."
For a moment, I just looked at him still trying. Still showing up. Then, wordlessly, I stepped aside and let him in.
He entered carefully, placing the bags on the kitchen counter as if afraid to disturb the silence of the house. I watched him unload ingredients-eggs, smoked ham, scallions, cheese, tomatoes, a small pack of fresh herbs, and a loaf of soft bread.
"What exactly are you making?" I asked, raising a brow.
"Omelet toast and ham rolls," he said confidently. "And I make pretty good garlic butter too."
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Alright, let's see what you've got." I whispered.
Jungkook got to work, washing, chopping, cracking eggs with practiced ease. He moved with quiet focus, sleeves rolled up, his brows furrowed as he whisked the eggs with a pinch of salt and cream.
While he worked, he asked softly, "Does Jungin like eggs?"
"Only if they're cheesy," I replied. "And not too brown."
"Got it," he said, adjusting the heat instantly. "What about veggies? Tomatoes?"
I shook my head. "He picks them out and claims he's allergic. He's not."
