The house was quiet. Too quiet. Hana sat in the garden, eyes on the horizon, where the city lights shimmered against the dusk. Mi-Ho's words still echoed in her ears: "Then let's build one on choice."
She hadn't given her answer yet.
Behind her, footsteps approached. Soft, cautious. Mi-Ho. He didn't say anything, just placed a steaming cup of tea beside her and sat on the grass, a respectful distance away.
"Why me?" she asked finally.
"Because you never ran, even when everyone else did," he answered. "You stayed, even when you were broken."
She turned to him, eyes narrowed. "But what if I break again?"
"Then I'll be there to hold the pieces."
Hana exhaled slowly. She had spent years taking care of everyone else. Her step-sisters. Her mother. Even the man who bought her, who tried to own her. She had been everyone's solution but never her own.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's build something new. Together."
Mi-Ho didn't move. He just smiled, the kind that held relief and something deeper—hope.