Se-Ri's POV
The arrivals hall at Shanghai Pudong hummed with muted chaos — clattering luggage wheels, overlapping voices in a dozen languages, and soft airport music pretending to be calm.
I stood near the glass exit doors, phone still warm in my hand.
"Could you pick me up… or else send your address so I can grab a cab?"
There'd been a pause.
Then his voice — low, rough, unguarded.
"I'm coming."
It hadn't been casual. Or controlled. It had sounded like something cracked open inside him. Like a breath he'd been holding too long.
Now I waited.
My suitcase rested by my feet. I adjusted the strap of my shoulder bag, glanced toward the automated doors every few seconds — wondering how long airport traffic took. Wondering if he'd look different.
Wondering if I'd feel different.
And then — I saw him.
Leo.
Hair slightly messy. Black coat over a white button-down, no tie. Eyes scanning the crowd, sharp and unsure. Jaw set. He looked like someone searching for a ghost he wasn't sure he believed in.
He didn't spot me at first.
I stepped forward. Walked up behind him.
Tapped his shoulder.
He turned — and I didn't wait.
I wrapped my arms around him, hard. Immediate. Like I hadn't thought twice.
"I missed you," I whispered against his shoulder.
No questions. No explanations.
Just truth.
His arms came around me slowly. Hesitant at first — like he wasn't sure I was real.
Then tighter.
Like; he was sure.
The ride to his penthouse was quiet, but not empty.
The silence felt full — like something fragile being reassembled.
He didn't ask why I came.
I didn't explain.
When we pulled up, the doorman nodded like this was normal — like Leo bringing home a woman wasn't something that carried the weight of three silent months behind it.
We rode the elevator in silence. Shoulders almost touching. Breaths syncing like muscle memory.
Inside, the penthouse was exactly what I'd imagined — sharp lines, open spaces, clean surfaces that looked like they'd never been truly lived in. Through the wall of windows, Shanghai glittered in sharp, beautiful pixels.
I set my suitcase down near the entry.
"I'm here for a week," I said, turning to face him. "It's my first time in China."
He didn't speak.
"I want to explore during the day. I can get a guide. But in the evenings, you're mine."
I kept talking.
He just kept looking at me.
Like he didn't trust what he was seeing. Like this was a dream he hadn't let himself have.
Then — he stepped forward.
And kissed me.
Slow. Soft. Careful.
Like a question.
I answered it.
Not with words.
But with everything that had lived in the silence between us.