The CEO Who Forgot How to Love | Emotional Korean Love Story
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The CEO Who Forgot How to Love
Author: Kavitha.V
Min-jun no longer believed in grand gestures.
Not after building MJ Holdings from nothing—sleepless nights, ruthless negotiations, and decisions that slowly carved emotion out of his life. Success had given him power, respect, and control. But somewhere along the way, it had taken something in return.
His warmth.
Every morning at exactly 7:03 a.m., Min-jun stepped into his glass-walled office on the forty-eighth floor. Seoul stretched endlessly beneath him—crowded streets, blinking lights, a city that never paused to breathe. He liked being above it all. Up here, silence ruled. Silence never asked him how he was feeling, and Min-jun was grateful for that.
Until Kyung-mi entered his life.
She joined the company as a communications officer—quiet, observant, unassuming.
From the beginning, she was different from the others. She didn’t flatter him. She didn’t tremble when he entered a room. She spoke only when necessary, and when she did, her words carried honesty rather than ambition.
Min-jun didn’t notice her beauty first.
He noticed how real she felt in a world full of polished masks.
One evening, long after most employees had left, Min-jun noticed the light still on at a nearby desk. Kyung-mi sat there, reviewing a presentation a senior manager had abandoned halfway through.
“You don’t have to fix his mistakes,” Min-jun said, stopping beside her.
Kyung-mi glanced up, unfazed. “You don’t have to either,” she replied softly. “But you always do.”
The words caught him off guard.
After a pause, she added gently, “People forget you’re human, Min-jun-ssi.
Maybe… you’ve forgotten it too.”
For a moment, he couldn’t respond. He wanted to dismiss her, to retreat behind authority—but something in her calm gaze held him still. That night, Min-jun sat in his car long after work, the engine silent, her words echoing in his mind.
Human.
When had he last felt like one?
Days turned into weeks. Their conversations grew naturally—never rushed, never forced. They talked during quiet coffee breaks and late evenings. Kyung-mi spoke about her mother’s small garden on the edge of the city, where jasmine bloomed after sunset. Min-jun found himself sharing things he had never spoken aloud—the loneliness of his penthouse, the city lights that kept him awake at night.
When the company’s annual gala arrived, the hall sparkled with luxury and rehearsed smiles.
Min-jun moved through the crowd mechanically, until his eyes found Kyung-mi.
She wasn’t the most glamorous woman in the room, but there was a quiet confidence in the way she stood. For the first time that evening, he felt present.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Min-jun replied honestly. “But I think I am now.”
Kyung-mi smiled. “You speak like someone who doesn’t allow himself to feel.”
“I think I traded feeling for success,” he admitted.
“Then maybe it’s time to take it back.”
Love didn’t arrive suddenly. It unfolded slowly—in shared silences, soft laughter in elevators, and the comfort of being understood without explanation. Min-jun laughed more. Slept better.
Breathed easier.
One rainy night, they stood by the office window, watching the city blur beneath falling drops.
“I used to believe strength meant being alone,” Min-jun said quietly.
Kyung-mi turned to him. “And now?”
“Now I think strength is letting someone stay.”
She stepped closer, close enough for warmth to fill the space between them. “I’m here,” she whispered. “If you want me to be.”
Min-jun closed his eyes. For the first time in years, silence didn’t feel empty.
“Stay,” he said—not as a command, but as a request.
Kyung-mi nodded, smiling softly. “Always.”
And high above the rain-washed streets of Seoul, the CEO who had forgotten how to love… finally remembered.
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