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✶⋆.˚꩜ When The Hope Gets Dimmed .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Seungcheol stood at Ishaan's doorstep for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few days. In his arms, a basket of cookies (his fourth attempt at baking them without Lorenzo’s help), and in his heart, a storm of determination. Today was the day he’d prove himself. Today, Ishaan would have no choice but to acknowledge him.

He rang the doorbell, shifting nervously as he heard the familiar sound of little feet scurrying across the floor inside. When the door opened, Ishaan stood there, one hand on his hip, his sharp glare cutting through the air like a knife.

“You again?” Ishaan hissed, his voice cold enough to make the spring air feel like winter. “Do you ever take a hint?”

Seungcheol blinked, his confidence faltering for a moment before he forced his usual smile. “I brought cookies!” he said cheerfully, holding up the basket like an offering. “And I didn’t burn them this time! Look!”

Ishaan glanced at the basket with blatant disinterest, arms still crossed. “I don’t want your cookies, Seungcheol. What is it about ‘stay away from me’ that you don’t understand?”

Before Seungcheol could answer, the twins peeked around Ishaan’s legs. Cheol’s eyes lit up. “Mister!” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly.

Seung-Haan, the bolder of the two, grinned wide. “Did you bring candy again?”

Seungcheol crouched down, his heart melting as he handed them each a cookie. “Better than candy—these are cookies I made just for you two,” he said, his voice softening as he watched them nibble cautiously.

But Ishaan wasn’t amused. He stepped forward, his icy tone cutting through the moment. “Stop trying to bribe my kids.”

But Seungcheol didn’t seem to hear him. He was too busy kneeling down in front of the twins, looking at them as if they were the greatest treasures he’d ever seen.

He grabbed the basket out of Seungcheol’s hands and shoved it back into his chest. “And stop showing up uninvited.”

Seungcheol looked up at Ishaan, his expression crestfallen but still hopeful. “I just want to make things right, Ishu,” he said softly.

Ishaan’s jaw tightened at the nickname. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice like a whip. “You can’t fix this with cookies, Seungcheol. You can’t fix this at all.”

The twins glanced up at Ishaan, sensing the tension in his voice. Seung-Haan tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Mama, why are you mad at Mister?”

Ishaan’s heart clenched, but his expression didn’t soften. “Go back inside,” he told the twins firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Seung-Haan and Cheol hesitated but obeyed, their little feet padding away. Seungcheol watched them go, his heart aching. When he turned back to Ishaan, he found the man staring at him with the same unrelenting anger he always did.

“Ishaan, please,” Seungcheol tried again. “I know I’ve made mistakes—huge ones—but I swear, I just want to be there for you and the twins. I’ll do anything.”

Ishaan let out a bitter laugh, folding his arms tighter across his chest. “Anything? Really? Then how about you disappear?”

The words hit Seungcheol like a slap, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes soft but unwavering. “I can’t disappear,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Not when I feel this way about you.”