yoongi

Yoongi was a man of contrasts, made of two halves that rarely revealed themselves at the same time.

The first part of him was what everyone saw in the company's daily routine: serious, cold, reserved. A man of few words, always elegant, with an attentive gaze and impeccable posture. He maintained his composure in any situation, exuding authority and confidence simply by his presence. He almost never let himself be shaken—he preferred silence to exposition, discipline to improvisation. This Yoongi seemed distant, unapproachable, as if he had built walls around himself.

But there was another side, reserved only for those who managed to penetrate those walls. When he allowed himself to be himself, he was surprisingly warm. Intelligent and witty, he spoke with a sparkle in his eyes about what he loved. His seriousness gave way to an almost rare lightness: a man capable of laughing at simple things, of showing himself attentive and generous to those around him. In this state, he revealed his quiet kindness—not the kind displayed in grand gestures, but the kind that emerges in details, in caring, in attentive listening, in the way he made others feel special.

Yoongi was simultaneously the stern professional and the gentle man. A delicate balance between the coldness on the surface and the sweetness hidden deep within.

Yoongi and Analy's love seemed nonexistent to those watching. Two exemplary professionals, serious and dedicated to their work, who shared the same corporate space without ever crossing the line of cordiality. To their colleagues, they were nothing more than exes who had moved on, living in harmony, without drama or resentment.

But the reality was quieter and deeper. Within them, an unbreakable bond remained, a feeling that had not been erased by time or divorce. Yoongi, in his rigid CEO posture, hid the memories that haunted him every night: the smiles he no longer received, the presence that no longer filled his luxury apartment. Analy, for her part, maintained her discreet sweetness, dedicating herself to her advertising work with professionalism, even though, deep down, she carried the longing for the hugs that no longer existed.

Two years had passed, and the longing lingered like a wound that never healed. The respect they cultivated for each other was proof of the greatness of their love, a feeling so genuine that it chose dignity over suffering. There were no arguments, no hurt feelings—only the silent pain of two hearts that had parted to avoid further wounding.

So they walked side by side, like gentle strangers who shared the same story. A seemingly invisible love that still pulsed silently, alive in the memories and sacrifices they chose to make, believing the other deserved more than they could offer.