The next morning, the tour group headed toward a famous Swiss suspension bridge overlooking the valley. The bridge swayed slightly in the gentle wind, suspended high above a sparkling river. Tourists hesitated at the entrance, some nervously peering over the edges, others holding their cameras to capture the breathtaking view.
Choi Eun-Seo approached cautiously, gripping the railing tightly. Heights had never been her favorite.
"You'll be fine," Ji-Hoon said, strolling up beside her, hands in his jacket pockets. "It's just a bridge. It's not going anywhere… except maybe swaying a little."
She shot him a sharp glare. "You find my fear amusing, don't you?"
He grinned, tilting his head. "Only a little."
Eun-Seo rolled her eyes but took a hesitant step forward. The bridge groaned under the weight of people and the wind. Her heart raced.
Ji-Hoon noticed immediately. He stepped closer, just enough for her to sense his presence without crowding her. "Hey, don't worry," he said softly. "I've got you."
Her breath caught. "You… don't even know me."
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I know that holding your hand right now would make you feel safer."
She wanted to protest. Absolutely not.
But before she could, a sudden gust of wind made her scarf fly into the air. She reached for it instinctively, but it slipped past her fingers and floated toward the edge.
Ji-Hoon reacted instantly, catching it midair before it tumbled into the valley below. His fingers brushed hers as he handed it back.
"Thanks," she said quietly, clutching the scarf to her chest.
"You're welcome," he said, his voice softer than usual. "See? I save things. Again."
She felt her cheeks heat and quickly looked away, focusing on the sweeping view instead of the lingering warmth of his hand.
The group moved ahead, leaving the two of them momentarily alone on the bridge. The river below glistened in the morning sunlight, the sound of water rushing echoing through the valley. The wind tousled her hair, and for a brief moment, everything felt suspended — like the world had shrunk to just the two of them.
Ji-Hoon leaned lightly against the railing, glancing at her. "You know… there's something about bridges," he said thoughtfully. "They're scary, and they make you nervous, but crossing them… it feels like you're accomplishing something. Facing a fear. Trusting yourself."
Eun-Seo turned to him, intrigued despite herself. "And what does that have to do with me?"
He shrugged, smirking faintly. "Maybe nothing. Or maybe… it's like how you've been holding back with people. Fear of falling… of trusting someone."
Her heart skipped. How does he always know what to say?
Ji-Hoon stepped closer, cautiously closing the space between them. "I get it," he said gently. "I know I'm not exactly the easiest person to… like."
Eun-Seo's eyes widened. "You… say that like you care."
"I do," he admitted, voice low. "I care that you're scared. That you're careful. But sometimes… it's okay to let someone in. Even if it's just a little."
She swallowed hard. She wanted to argue, to tell him she didn't need anyone, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she nodded slightly, looking down at the wooden planks beneath her feet.
Ji-Hoon extended his hand slowly. "So… do I get to hold your hand? Just for the bridge?"
Eun-Seo hesitated, heart hammering. Then, after a long pause, she placed her hand in his.
His grip was warm, firm, and comforting. She felt a strange flutter in her chest — part fear, part excitement.
Step by step, they crossed the bridge together. Ji-Hoon kept his hand gently around hers, guiding her, reassuring her. She realized how much easier it was to face the height with him there.
Halfway across, she looked up at him. "You really think… I can trust you?"
Ji-Hoon met her gaze, eyes soft but confident. "I don't just think it. I know it."
Her heart swelled, and she let herself relax — just a little. For the first time since meeting him, Eun-Seo felt a fragile kind of safety, like someone had quietly built a bridge inside her heart, piece by piece.
When they reached the other side, she let go of his hand reluctantly. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
Ji-Hoon grinned knowingly. "See? That wasn't so bad."
Eun-Seo crossed her arms, trying to hide her embarrassment. "It was terrifying."
"But you did it," he said, voice soft but teasing. "And… I think you did it really well."
She blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. "You really are impossible," she whispered.
"And yet," he said with a small smile, "here I am. Your disaster. Again."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. Maybe he was right — maybe disasters weren't always bad. Especially when they made her heart beat like this.
As they walked back toward the group, Ji-Hoon glanced at her with a gentle, mischievous smile. "Tomorrow, we explore the old town. Try not to trip… or fall for me."
Eun-Seo rolled her eyes but found herself laughing. "No promises."
And as they walked side by side, she realized that crossing this bridge wasn't just about facing her fear of heights. It was about the first tentative steps toward trusting someone — someone who had, against all odds, started to feel like home.