Min-Jae's POV
The apartment was too quiet after she left. I sat there, still on the edge of my bed, the crutches leaning against the nightstand, the gray sheets rumpled where she had been sitting, where she had toppled onto my lap like some scene out of a drama I wasn't acting in, but living. My lips still burned. My chest was still too tight. And I was… smiling. Me. Smiling like an idiot, staring at the spot where her bag had been, where her laugh had filled the air just minutes ago. Tomi. I pressed my hand to my mouth, almost embarrassed at myself. I wasn't supposed to let it get this far, not this fast. I had rules for myself. No getting attached when I was still broken—physically, career-wise, emotionally. No dragging someone else into the mess of being Min-Jae, the actor, the public figure, the man with paparazzi waiting at every corner. But then she had walked in with her pink dress and nervous eyes, looking like she belonged in my world even though she didn't know it yet. And all those rules scattered. Her lips were soft. Warm. Hesitant at first, then bolder, matching me, pushing me, making me forget every ache in my leg, every pressure on my shoulders. Ten minutes felt like forever. Ten minutes felt like not enough. And then she was gone. My phone buzzed on the desk. I thought—stupidly—that it would be her. That maybe she had changed her mind, decided to turn around, send a text, anything. But it wasn't. Just Tae-ho, checking in to make sure I was "resting and not overexerting myself." If only he knew. I dropped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Resting. Right. Like I could rest with the memory of her mouth still on mine. The phone buzzed again. This time, not Tae-ho. Han-ji. Her name lit up the screen in a way that made my stomach twist, but not in the way it used to. Back then, when I was still green and chasing every role like it was oxygen, she had been my entire sky. Han-ji Soo—the girl who'd made me believe love could be a refuge, not a weapon. But the message was sharp in its simplicity: I love you and still want you. If it were in the past when I was head over heels, I would have been excited and all. I shut my eyes, the image of her standing by my hospital bed flashing back uninvited. She had come with my parents. My parents, who hadn't even bothered to show up the night of the accident, but appeared later with cameras trailing behind, acting like model citizens worried for their son. Han-ji had stood there, her hand hovering like she wanted to touch me, but all I had felt was anger. At her. At them. At myself. I had told her then—firmly, for the last time—to leave. That I didn't need her. That whatever we had ended long before my leg broke. And yet… here she was, still clinging to the ghost of us. I tossed the phone aside, anger churning in my chest. My parents had been calling nonstop too, their names flashing on the screen over and over. I knew what they wanted. Not me. Not Min-Jae the son. They wanted Min-Jae the actor. The face they could parade to strengthen their public image, the one who made their family name untouchable in industry circles. The same family that hadn't blinked when I nearly ruined my career over a stunt gone wrong. I thought of my sister, Min-young, who had been indifferent all through. She acted just like my parents and it made me wonder if she ever thought of me as family. It burned. That the real family I had, I didn't have at all. And somewhere between the weight of it all, I thought of Han-ji again—back when she was my first love, before fame, before cameras, before expectations. When she was just Han-ji Soo, the girl who used to make me noodles in her kitchen and laugh until she cried. Back when we were stupid and young, thinking we could conquer the world with nothing but each other. But that girl didn't exist anymore. I checked my messages again, half desperate for distraction. My colleagues had texted—Jin Ji-soo and a couple of others. Stay strong. Fighting, hyung! We're waiting for your comeback. I managed a small smile. At least some people remembered I was more than a headline. The smile faded when the doorbell rang. For one heart-stopping second, I thought—Tomi. Or maybe Tae-ho, bringing food, checking in. My chest lifted with that hope, and I grabbed my crutches, forcing myself up. Each step toward the door was heavy, the ache in my leg reminding me I was still not the man I wanted to be. I swung the door open— And froze. Han-ji stood there. Before I could say a word, she threw herself at me. Her arms locked around my neck, her mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that felt like invasion, not memory. The crutches nearly slipped from my hands as I staggered back, shock and rage fusing together. With every ounce of strength left in me, I shoved her off. "What the hell are you doing?!" My voice was hoarse, too loud in the quiet apartment. She just smiled—smiled like this was normal, like I hadn't just told her in a hospital bed that I never wanted this again. "Min-Jae, stop pretending. You know we're meant to be. You've always known." She stepped inside, uninvited, brushing past me like she owned the air here. "Get out," I snapped, adjusting my grip on the crutches. My pulse was thundering. "You don't belong here. Not anymore." She ignored me, closing the door behind her. Anger surged, hot and uncontrollable. My leg throbbed. I hated that I couldn't even move fast enough to physically push her out. My next thought was Tae-ho. I could call him, have him drag her out, make this stop before it went further. But then she said it. "My father is coming to Seoul soon. For our engagement." The words crashed into me like another accident. I laughed, sharp and bitter. "What the hell are you talking about?" She lifted her chin, that same confident tilt she used to have when she thought she'd won an argument. "It's the only way, Min-Jae. The only way to save your image. After your accident, after the rumors—being engaged to me, with my father's influence, you'll be untouchable again. Always trending and popular." Her voice was silk. Her words were poison. And suddenly, I realized—she hadn't come here for me. She had come for herself. For the deal. For the power. For the version of Min-Jae who existed only on billboards and in headlines. And that, it disgusted me more than anything.