The next morning, I woke up gasping—sweat sticking to my forehead. The nightmare from the other day kept replaying in my head like a broken record. My chest was heavy, so to shake it off, I blasted my playlist. K-pop, P-pop, even random Chinese and Japanese tracks—one after the other. I sang at the top of my lungs, off-key and shameless, letting my voice drown the heaviness inside me.
By the time I finished cleaning, my mood was lighter. I washed up quickly, slipped into my office outfit, and realized I was running late. Panic mode. Purse in one hand, airpods in the other, phone clenched between my teeth, and—because of course—the last heel dangling from my hand as I hopped on one foot outside my apartment door.
That's when I felt it. That strange pull.
I straightened up, slipping on my heel, and froze. Across the hall, in front of apartment 502, someone was standing. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Fingers on Glasses. Familiar. My heart skipped a beat, and then—like a curse—the echo of Amna's teasing voice filled my head.
"Khalaaaa… you like him, don't you? I knew it! Khala has a prince in Korea!"
I blinked hard. No. Nope. This can't be real. How can Min Jae be here? I turned my face away, pretending to check my watch, but then—
"Noona?"
That voice. Deep, smooth, dangerous in the way it curled into your chest and made your pulse stumble.
Slowly, I turned back, forcing a weird smile. "Ahh… ac-actually—I live here."
Min Jae raised a brow, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. "Here? As in, across the hall from me? That's… unexpected."
Before I could respond, a little voice piped up. His younger brother rushed out of the apartment, tugging at his sleeve. "Brother! Look—it's Noona!"
My awkward smile softened. "Hi."
"Hello," Min Jae said, his gaze lingering on me, unhurried and unreadable. Then his brother announced proudly, "Noona lives here!! Now I'll get to meet her once a week."
Min Jae's eyes glinted. He tilted his head slightly, his voice lowering just enough to send butterflies spiraling in my stomach. "Once a week? No… that's not nearly enough." His gaze locked on mine. "If Noona lives across from me, I'll see her every day."
My heart thumped hard in my chest. I tucked my phone into my purse, trying to fix my hair in a hurry with my free hand. As I ran my fingers through the strands and pushed them back into place, his words trailed off.
"You're going to be la—" He stopped mid-sentence. His lips parted slightly, his gaze sharpening like he'd forgotten the world existed. He just stood there, staring at me.
Those eyes. Ocean-deep, steady, pulling me in.
For a few seconds, I didn't breathe. My hand froze in my hair, my pulse loud in my ears.
Then he cleared his throat, almost as if catching himself. "...late," he finished softly, but his voice carried something else—something unspoken that made my cheeks flush.
"I-I mean, yes. I'm already late for the office," I stammered.
He leaned casually against his doorframe, smirk tugging at his lips. "Then you'd better run. But…" his gaze swept over me once more, lingering with heat before locking back onto my eyes, "next time, don't rush so much. I don't want to see you hurt."
I clutched my purse tighter, my throat dry. "I'll keep that in mind."
As I hurried toward the elevator, I heard his voice behind me again, low and teasing:
"Noona… don't think you can avoid me now. Not when you live across the hall."
The elevator dinged, and I practically dove inside, my face hot and my stomach in knots.
Butterflies? No. This man was a storm.
When I reached the office, I couldn't stop smiling. My cheeks literally hurt, but I didn't care. Every time I remembered the way Min Jae's ocean eyes lingered on me, the way he'd said "I'll see you every day" in that low, confident voice, my stomach flipped like I was on the world's most dangerous roller coaster.
I sat at my desk, pretending to go through emails, but my mind wasn't on work. My reflection in the computer screen even gave me away—I was grinning like an idiot.
I picked up my phone under the desk and texted Fatima.
Me:Brooo… guess who just moved in next door.
Fatima:Don't tell me… IS IT Him?!?!?
Me:YESSS. He literally lives across the hall. Across. The. Hall.
Fatima:HOLY SHIT. Pack it up—you're the main lead in a K-drama.
Me:Shut upppp
Fatima:Don't you dare shut up. Tell me EVERYTHING. What did he say? How close did he stand? Did he SMILE?
Me:He called me Noona. He stared at me like… like I was the only person on the planet. And bro… his eyes… I swear my heart stopped beating for a sec.
Fatima:AAAAAAAAAA. You're done for. I told you already. Butterflies? Nope—you've got a whole zoo inside you.
I was clutching my phone to my chest, trying not to squeal in the middle of the office, when I heard a voice beside me.
"Hannah-ssi?"
I looked up. It was Nam Ji Hwan, leaning on my desk, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Y-yes?" I asked, pushing my phone face-down quickly.
He tilted his head, studying me with genuine curiosity. "Why are you smiling so much today? Did the client problem finally get resolved?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What? Oh… the client—yes, yes, that's fine now. Totally sorted."
Ji Hwan narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly not convinced. "Really? Because I've seen you smile before, but this is different. You look… happy. Like something good happened."
I bit my lip, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. I couldn't exactly tell him I'd spent the morning being wrecked by a man's stare in front of my apartment door.
"Let's just say…" I glanced back at my computer screen, trying to look casual, "life is finally starting to surprise me in good ways."
Ji Hwan gave a small smile, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. He nodded slowly. "That's good then. You deserve it."
As he walked away, I leaned back in my chair, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was still racing—not from Ji Hwan's words, but from the memory of Min Jae.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and half-finished emails, but I didn't care. I had a secret now, one that made every boring task feel lighter. Because every time I looked at the clock, I knew that when I went home, he'd be just across the hall.
That day felt endless. Meetings stacked into one another, deadlines clawing at the back of my neck, my phone vibrating like a trapped bee. By the time I shoved my laptop into my bag, the office had already dimmed and the clock read past eleven. My shoulders ached and my brain fizzed; all I wanted was to crawl into bed and disappear.
The building lobby smelled faintly of disinfectant and cold air. I stood in front of the elevator, staring at the closed doors as if they could swallow me whole. I hadn't even pressed the button.
Someone stepped close enough that I felt the warmth of them against my arm. I turned.
He was there — hoodie up, cap low, tall and unreadable against the wall. He pressed the elevator button like it was nothing, and glanced at me with a small, knowing smirk.
"Waiting for the lift without pressing the button?" his voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing.
"I was—" I fumbled, tucking hair behind my ear. "Lost in thought."
He chuckled, the sound soft in the hollow lobby. "You looked far away."
The elevator dinged and we rode in silence. The small metal box felt smaller with him in it; his presence filled the air. I told myself not to stare, but my eyes kept betraying me—his jawline, the way his hands were shoved into his pockets, the faint scent on his sleeve.
"Long day?" he asked.
"The longest," I admitted. "Meetings from dawn to dusk."
"You survived," he said simply, like the fact was obvious. Then, as if noticing my exhaustion, he added, "Be careful. You look too tired."
His tone tilted protective—just enough to make something flutter against my ribs. I blinked, because I wasn't in the business of letting strangers worry over me.
When the doors opened on my floor, I stepped out and gave him a quick, automatic smile. "Goodnight."
He followed. Not into my apartment, not right up behind me — but down the hall, moving as if it were no effort at all to match my pace. "Next door," he said when I blinked at him. "I live next door."
Next door. The phrase landed oddly, like an invitation or a warning. I keyed the passcode with hands that suddenly felt colder.
"Goodnight, noona," he said softly, then, softer still, "Don't stay up too late. Those eyes will give out."
I smiled too quickly and slipped inside. The apartment light hummed to life and I walked straight to the dining table.
A folded note stared up at me from the wood, the paper deliberately placed so I wouldn't miss it.
You can't protect everyone forever. Watch your back.
My chest tightened. The message was blunt and personal — and the fear it pricked at my throat wasn't the kind I allowed to show. My apartment passcode, my door unlocked… how had someone gotten in?
I left the note where it was and went to the terrace to breathe anyway. The city spread below in a scatter of lights, quiet and indifferent. I tried to steady my pulse, to tell myself that a note was just a note.
Then I felt eyes on me.
Across the small gap, on the opposite balcony, he stood like he'd been waiting. Min Jae, hands in his pockets, hair muddled, watching without looking like a sentinel rather than a stranger.
"You're still awake?" His voice floated over the space between us.
"Can't sleep," I said, because I didn't want to say the truth: that the note had tunneled into the part of me that remembered smoke and running feet.
He looked at me for a long second, and something in his expression shifted from curiosity to concern — not the tip-toe worry of someone who's polite, but the frank kind that makes you realize you were seen. "You look worried," he said.
"Just adjusting," I lied, keeping my shoulders square.
He didn't press. Instead he leaned on the railing and said, low and steady, "This city can be loud. It gets easier. Or it gets quieter. Depends who's watching."
"Thanks for the horoscope," I muttered, but when I turned back inside my apartment my hands trembled as I locked the terrace door behind me.
I sat on the edge of the bed with the note folded in my palm. Whoever wrote it knew more than they should. Whoever did that could do it again.