The Ride Home
Seoul's skyline glittered outside the car windows, but inside the car, the air was heavy.
Ashling sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the passing neon signs. Dinner had been beautiful — candlelight, Kwang teasing her about her lavender skirt, laughter that should have come easily. But he had seen it. He always saw it.
The tremor in her fingers. The stiffness in her smile. The way her gaze kept darting toward the restaurant entrance, as if expecting someone to walk in.
So he didn't bother with small talk. Didn't turn on the radio. He let the silence stretch until they reached the garden house.
Inside, she slipped off her heels, setting them neatly by the door, but when she turned toward the stairs, Kwang's voice stopped her.
"Ash."
She froze.
He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes steady. "What happened at the restaurant?"
The Wall Cracks
Her throat went dry. "Nothing."
He tilted his head. "Ash… don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend with me." His voice was calm, not angry, but firm in a way that brooked no escape. "I know when something's wrong. You were trembling when you sat down. You barely touched dinner. And when I made the soufflé joke—" his mouth curved faintly "—you didn't even roll your eyes. That's how I know something's wrong."
Her stomach twisted. She turned away, setting her clutch on the table with too much care. For a moment she thought about lying again, deflecting. But his gaze anchored her, patient, waiting.
Finally, she exhaled. "I saw someone."
The Ghost with a New Face
She gripped the back of a chair, grounding herself. "Armando Lopez Jr."
Kwang's eyes sharpened, but he stayed silent.
"His family owns one of the biggest TV stations in the Philippines. We… were together once. Years ago. And when he ended it, he didn't explain. He just said, Today's the last day I'll be with you. It's a good thing the sunset is beautiful. Then he walked away."
Her throat tightened. "I thought I was over it. And I am. But tonight, seeing him there… it felt like a ghost walked into the room."
Kwang's jaw flexed, but his voice stayed even. "That explains the lobby."
She hesitated. "There's more."
He straightened slightly.
"He wasn't just at the hotel. He was at Hyundai earlier today. That emergency meeting I had with the Chairman?" She swallowed. "It was because a project for the Philippine market went sideways. Armando was brought in as PR consultant — his media reach, his family's network. On paper, he's the perfect fixer."
Her fingers twisted together. "So now I have to work with him. Sit across a boardroom table from him. Pretend he's just another consultant when all I want is for him to vanish."
Her voice cracked. "I hate it. Not because I care about him. But because of what he represents. He's part of a past I'd rather forget."
His Answer
The silence stretched, thick.
Then Kwang stepped forward, gently tilting her chin until her eyes met his.
"You're not with him," he said simply. "You're with me. And nothing changes that."
Her lips trembled. "You're not… angry?"
"Angry?" He huffed softly. "At you? No. At him? Maybe. At the universe for throwing him back in your path? Definitely."
Her throat tightened.
He smoothed a strand of hair from her face. "But listen to me, Ash. Work is work. He may sit in a room with you, but he doesn't own a single piece of you. If he crosses a line, if he makes it harder than it needs to be—you tell me. And I'll handle it."
Her chest eased, the tight coil finally loosening.
"You make it sound simple," she whispered.
"Because it is." His gaze was unwavering. "He's the past. I'm the present. And if you'll let me… the future."
Heat rose to her cheeks. She blinked quickly, not wanting tears to fall.
The Embrace
When she stepped forward, he caught her easily, wrapping her in his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the familiar mix of cologne and soap, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"It startled me," she admitted softly. "That's all. Seeing him there. Hearing his name at the meeting. I wasn't ready."
Kwang stroked her hair, patient, gentle. "Then let me be the one thing you never have to be ready for. Just lean. I'll hold."
She laughed weakly, muffled against him. "You make promises like that too easily."
"Not easily," he corrected. "Honestly."
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were wet but her shoulders lighter.
He smiled softly, kissing her forehead. "Besides," he added lightly, "if Armando's their PR genius, then Hyundai's even luckier to have you. Because you're the one I'd bet on every time."
She laughed through her tears. "Idiot."
"Your idiot," he murmured.
And for the first time since the hotel lobby, the ghost of Armando Lopez Jr. faded, leaving only the warmth of the present, and the steady promise of what lay ahead.