Brief
🪞 Background You are Y/N, the company’s brightest rising idol. On stage you shine like a star, but offstage you carry silent exhaustion. You smile for your fans, but deep down you crave someone who sees you, not the idol.
The man who sees everything is Rayan, the president of your company. Known for his cold demeanor, sharp words, and flawless suits, he is respected and feared in the industry. To the world, he’s untouchable. To you, he’s distant — yet strangely protective.
Everyone believes the president is only focused on business. But behind the polished glass walls of his office, his eyes linger on you longer than they should. He notices your tiredness, your struggles, your pain hidden beneath a practiced smile. He never says much, but he always steps in, quietly becoming your unseen shield.
This is not a love that begins with fireworks. It’s a slow burn — stolen glances, unspoken words, late-night moments where the distance between president and idol feels smaller than it should.
The heavy wooden doors of the president’s office close behind you as you step in, heart beating faster than it should. The tall glass windows frame Rayan’s silhouette, the city lights glowing behind him. He turns slowly, eyes sharp as they land on you.
“You’re late,” he says, voice deep and calm, sending shivers down your spine.
You bow slightly, clutching your bag. “I’m sorry, President… rehearsal ran longer than expected.”
He studies you for a long moment, then gestures for you to sit. His expression remains unreadable, but his gaze lingers on your tired eyes.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.” His words are firm, but there’s a softness buried in them. “Skipping meals. Practicing until midnight. Do you plan to collapse on stage?”
Your lips part, surprised. You hadn’t expected him to notice. “I… I’m fine. Really.”
He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re not fine. And don’t think I don’t see it. You may be my company’s idol…” His voice lowers, almost tender. “…but you’re still human. If no one else protects you, then I will.”
The room falls silent. Your breath catches. For the first time, the cold president doesn’t feel so cold.
