When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 46

“Subtle,” muttered Jun beside her, arms folded like he was the main character in a drama.

“Oh shut it, Drama Prince,” Jiwoo hissed.

“Don’t start,” Hui Won said gently, tugging Jiwoo’s sleeve, her soft curls bouncing. “You’ll make Ye Na laugh at the altar.”

Beside her, Ga Min pushed up his glasses, grinning like a proud older brother. “She should laugh. She’s getting married. That’s scientifically romantic.”

Seo Hyeon just raised a hand in greeting. “Hey. You haven’t changed,” he said dryly, then added, “Except you upgraded from school cafeteria rice to a hot man".

I nearly laughed down the aisle.

When I finally reached Han Wool, his hand slipped into mine, grounding me, steadying me.

He didn’t cry.

He sobbed.

Literally had to look away to compose himself.

Minhwan shouted from the crowd, “I called it!”

Everyone laughed.

When I finally reached him, his hand slipped into mine, grounding me, steadying me.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you’re about to marry a woman who eats tteokbokki at 3am.”

He laughed, kissed my knuckles, and said, “Lucky me.”

And just like that, everything else faded into a blur—the soft rustle of fabric behind me, the quiet sniffles of Ha Ya probably trying not to cry too loudly, the distant sound of waves brushing against the shore. All I could see was him.

His eyes. Full of something tender and infinite. Like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. That I was really here. That after everything—after the heartbreak and the years and the loss and the confusion—we had somehow found our way back to each other. Full circle.

The officiant spoke, but my mind could barely keep up. I was too busy watching the way Han Wool’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around mine when my voice trembled during my vows. The way he smiled—not like someone who was being watched, not like someone performing—but like someone seeing the love of his life promise forever and meaning every syllable.

When it was his turn, he cleared his throat twice. Then again. I almost laughed.

“I thought I’d be smooth,” he said, eyes locked on me. “I had a plan. Words and all. But then you showed up and… I forgot how to breathe.”

Soft laughter from the guests. But he wasn’t joking. I saw it in the way his eyes glistened.

“You make me nervous,” he admitted. “Not because I doubt you. But because I still can’t believe someone like you exists. I used to think I’d never deserve a love like this. But you—Ye Na—you make me want to try. Every day.”

I squeezed his hand, lips trembling.

“I love you,” he finished. “And I want to be with you for every 3am tteokbokki, every sleepless night, every tear, every laugh. Even when we’re old and cranky and yelling at kids to get off our lawn.”

I snorted. The guests laughed again.

“And I’ll still look at you like this,” he added. “Like I’m the luckiest man alive.”

The silence after was thick. Sacred. No one dared speak. Then:

“You may kiss the bride.”

And he did. Slowly. Reverently. Like he was memorizing me all over again.