Se-Ri's POV
It wasn't supposed to continue.
After that night — the second night — I told myself we would return to our respective corners of the world. No labels. No aftermath. Just something that happened in the emotional rubble of a wedding.
But that's not what happened.
There was... tension. Strange, quiet, unspoken tension. Like a line drawn around us that neither of us acknowledged but never stepped out of.
At work, I caught myself staring into space. At home, I caught myself re-reading his texts.
Texts that became calls.
Calls that became, "Want to grab dinner?"
Dinner that became: "Stay a little longer."
I didn't ask what we were. I didn't want to label it.
Because deep down, I was still confused. Still afraid. Still hearing Rhea's voice from the bidai: Don't be confused. Don't go further if you don't want him. Stay clear.
But I hadn't stayed clear.
I'd let it happen. Again. And again.
And something about the way Leo looked at me afterward — like I wasn't a complication, but a choice — made it harder to pretend it meant nothing.
We didn't talk about feelings. That wasn't our language.
But he always called.
And when I stayed late at work, he'd send dinner.
When I had a presentation, he'd text: "Crush it. You always do."
He asked about my product launches. Listened to my thoughts on brand direction. Let me vent about investors.
And sometimes, he'd ask me to help him pick out his outfits for conferences, or send a photo from an event just to ask if he looked appropriately intimidating.
It wasn't romance. Not in the traditional sense.
But it wasn't nothing either.
It was... companionship, familiarity, desire, comfort.
It was something else.
Something more.
And I couldn't stop wanting it.
Even if I still didn't know what to call it.
It was unnamed.