The photo lay on the nightstand between them, its glossy surface catching the lamplight like it was alive. Seol-ah couldn't tear her eyes away — her own body curled in sleep, and in the corner, that shadow. The man. Watching.
Her skin prickled.
"He was here," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Eli's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. "No. He wasn't. Not while I was with you."
"But the photo—" She pointed, her voice shaking. "It proves he was."
Eli turned away, refusing to look. "That's exactly what he wants. To twist you. To make you doubt what's real. To make you afraid even when you're safe."
Seol-ah pressed her palms against her face, trying to slow her breathing. Panic clawed at her chest, but beneath it, something steadier tugged at her — the sound of Eli's voice, low, certain, holding her like an anchor.
She lowered her hands. The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Then stay close. Don't leave me."
Heat flushed her cheeks. She hadn't meant to sound so raw.
Eli froze, startled. For a second, his eyes softened, unreadable. Then he dragged the chair from the corner, setting it firmly by the bed. "I'll be here," he said simply.
But his eyes — steady, dark, burning — said more than he let himself.
Seol-ah lay back, but sleep stayed out of reach. Every drip from the faucet, every creak in the walls made her flinch. She turned her head, watching Eli instead. He sat stiff in the chair, his gaze fixed on the door like a soldier on watch.
Her voice broke the silence, small and uncertain. "Why are you doing this? Why risk everything… for someone who doesn't even remember you?"
He didn't turn. His voice came quiet but immediate. "Because I'd rather you live without me than die without knowing me."
Her breath caught. The words landed hard, a truth she wasn't ready for.
The silence thickened, full of things neither of them dared to say.
Minutes stretched. The lamp hummed. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed.
Eventually her eyelids grew heavy. The last thing she saw before sleep pulled her under was Eli, still in that chair, still guarding the door — his face carved in tired yellow light, like a man carrying the weight of her entire world in his hands.