The suite was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the muted rhythm of Mirae's breathing. Her sobs had softened into hiccups, her shoulders no longer shaking as violently. She clung to Joon-ho still, her face pressed against his chest, and the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek anchored her in ways she hadn't known she needed.
Only when her tears fully slowed did the realization hit her. Heat spread across her cheeks — she had been crying into him, soaking the front of his shirt, leaving herself vulnerable in the most unguarded way. Embarrassment prickled, a part of her wanting to pull away, to mask herself again with the polished poise she wore before cameras and strangers. Yet another, quieter part of her resisted. For the first time in months — maybe years — she had let go completely. And he hadn't recoiled. He had only held her, patient and steady.
