Se-Ri's POV
I woke up to the sound of the kettle clicking and the soft scent of eggs and butter in the air.
Leo was already awake.
Making breakfast.
The domestic calm of it should've felt sweet.
But it didn't.
It felt like a movie I'd walked into halfway —
Familiar scenes, wrong context.
I didn't go to the kitchen.
I walked straight to the bathroom.
Closed the door quietly behind me.
Every part of my body ached.
Not in a way that needed medicine.
In a way that needed answers.
I stepped into the shower.
Let the hot water hit my back.
I didn't cry. I didn't scrub.
I just stood there — as if the water could rinse me back to before.
Before last night.
Before silence felt like safety.
Before I started wondering if love was supposed to feel like being invisible.
An hour passed, maybe more.
Steam blurred the mirror.
My skin was pruned and raw.
Still, I didn't move.
Eventually, I got dressed.
Plain blouse. Loose trousers.
Hair tied back.
When I finally looked at myself in the mirror —
There it was.
The faint mark on my lip.
A bruise not from cruelty,
But from carelessness.
From being handled like I couldn't break.
I reached for my concealer.
Steady hand. Neutral tone.
Trying to paint over something I didn't know how to name.
And then —
He walked in.
Leo.
He stood behind me.
Silent. Watching.
Then, quietly, he rested his chin on my shoulder.
It startled me.
Just slightly.
But enough.
It wasn't comfort I felt.
It was tension.
As if my body hadn't caught up with my brain.
He didn't notice.
Or maybe he did — and didn't know what to do with it.
He asked softly, "Should I drop you to the office today?"
I shook my head.
"No. I have to go late. You should go first."
A pause.
"Se-Ri," he said. "Look at me."
I did.
He searched my face.
Like he was looking for a word he didn't know how to pronounce.
Then he leaned in —
Pressed a soft kiss against the bruise.
And walked out.
I stared at my reflection.
At the place his lips had touched.
Still faintly aching.
Still not healed.
And I whispered to myself, voice trembling:
"Why aren't you saying anything, Leo?
What are you?
Are you in pain?
What are you suffering from?
Tell me.
Say something."
But the room stayed quiet.
And I was left —
Concealed.
Composed.
Alone.