Damian stood by the café window, his tailored coat draped over the chair beside him. The early evening sun filtered through the glass, painting gold onto the quiet Seoul street.
He checked his watch.
Three minutes late.
Then, the door chimed.
Hena stepped in hesitantly, her eyes scanning the room before falling on him. Her heart thundered. This was the man who had almost mistaken her for someone else—the man whose eyes had held a thousand questions.
He stood as she approached, offering a small, formal nod. "Seo Hena?"
"Yes." She bowed slightly. "Mr. Lee."
"Thank you for meeting me."
They sat. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Damian observed her—she was nervous, but there was nothing rehearsed about her. No arrogance. No game-playing. Just… vulnerability.
"I realize this may be unexpected," he began, "but I saw you at the gallery party. You left before I could ask your name."
"I didn't mean to be there," she said quickly. "I wasn't invited."
He raised a hand, stopping her.
"I'm not angry. I'm curious."
She looked down at her tea. "Why?"
"You look exactly like someone I know."
Hena's throat tightened. "Hara Seo."
Damian's expression didn't change, but his gaze sharpened. "So you know."
"I didn't. Not until recently." Her fingers curled around the cup. "I found a bracelet with the name Hara… hidden in my grandmother's belongings. Then I saw Madam Seo at the party."
His jaw tightened at the name.
"She confronted me," Hena whispered. "Told me to disappear."
Damian leaned back. "That sounds like her."
Hena looked at him, startled by the bitterness in his voice.
"I shouldn't even be telling you this," she said. "I am leaving."
Hena angrily walked off and leave.
(Damian wanted to stop her but he just had to let her go, hoping they meet again and this time as friends)