Ha-Joon straightened and turned, clearly done, clearly leaving.
Ji-Ah reached out and caught his hand.
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked down at her fingers wrapped around his.
Then up at her face.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Her eyes softened first.
Open.
Curious. Hopeful in that dangerous, quiet way.
His stayed hard. Guarded.
But something flickered through them anyway. Brief. Almost invisible. Like a crack he immediately tried to seal.
"What," he asked.
She hesitated, then lifted her chin slightly. "Are we… friends now?"
Her eyebrows rose, waiting.
He looked away.
A pause.
Then, carefully, "Being my friend comes with complications."
She didn't interrupt.
"And consequences," he added. "Inconveniences. Expectations."
She studied him. "That wasn't an answer."
He glanced back at her. "If you can accept that…"
Another pause.
"…then yes."
She smiled. Soft and victorious.
She let go of his hand.
He didn't look back as he walked toward the kitchen.
"Are you hungry," he asked, voice normal again.
She nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I'll cook something."
She gestured to her ankle. "With my foot."
"Don't," he said immediately.
She blinked.
"I'll cook," he added, already opening a cabinet.
She watched him for a second, then leaned back into the couch, smiling to herself.
"Okay," she said lightly. "Friend."
From the kitchen, he replied without turning around, "Don't push it."
But he didn't tell her to stop smiling.
--
Ji-Ah sat on the counter, swinging one foot slowly, watching Ha-Joon cook.
The kitchen was warm, small sounds filling the space.
Knife against board. Oil breathing in the pan.
He looked annoyingly composed, sleeves rolled up, focus absolute.
"You're staring," he said, without turning.
"I'm appreciating," she replied. "Different."
He huffed, barely.
Then, without planning to, she sang.
Soft. Almost under her breath.
🎵 "Nunuel.....Bogo...Malhallaeyo…" 🎵The words slipped out like a secret she wasn't guarding very hard.
Ha-Joon's hand paused.
She didn't look at him. Just kept her eyes on the window, voice steady but thin, the kind that carried feeling without trying to.
🎵 "Bogo.. Sipeosseoyo…" 🎵
He listened.
Didn't comment.
Didn't interrupt.
Just let the sound exist in the space between them, warm and fleeting.
When the song faded, he resumed cooking like nothing had happened.
But something had.
They sat down to eat, the food still steaming between them.
Ha-Joon checked his watch.
Once. Then again.
Ji-Ah noticed. "They're late."
Before he could answer, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and snorted weakly. "Boss's Brother."
She picked up. "What—?"
Her voice broke mid-word.
"What?" she shouted, already standing. "What do you mean—slow down—Do-Hyun, breathe—"
Her chest rose sharply. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, fingers shaking.
"Where's Nisa?"
Silence. Then a sound that made her stomach drop.
Crying.
Ha-Joon was beside her instantly. "Ji-Ah."
She looked at him, eyes wide, breath uneven, and handed him the phone without a word.
"Yes," Ha-Joon said calmly. Too calmly. "Which hospital."
A pause.
"We'll be there."
He ended the call and looked at Ji-Ah. "Let's go."
She nodded immediately and pushed herself up, pain screaming through her ankle. She ignored it.
Outside, she struggled to keep up with him, breathless, limping but refusing to slow.
"Will she be okay?" she asked, voice thin.
Ha-Joon didn't stop walking. "Let's just go."
The car ride felt endless.
Ji-Ah sat rigid, knee bouncing despite the pain, sweat gathering at her temples. Her hair stuck to her forehead. She wiped her hands on her skirt over and over.
She glanced at Ha-Joon.
He looked calm. Focused. Hands steady on the wheel.
But his eyes kept shifting. Road. Mirror. Road again.
She whispered, barely audible, "I'm scared."
For a moment, the car was silent except for the hum of the engine.
"We'll get there," he said.
Not a promise.
But close enough.
--
The hospital lights were too bright.
Too white.
Everything smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Ha-Joon moved fast, straight to the front desk, voice low and precise. Ji-Ah barely heard what he said.
Her eyes were already scanning the hallway.
Then she saw him.
Do-Hyun stood near the wall, shoulders shaking, hands pressed to his face. The moment he saw Ji-Ah, he broke.
He crossed the distance in two steps and pulled her into a hug so tight it startled her.
"It's my fault," he choked. "I should've been there. I should've—"
"Hey, hey," Ji-Ah said quickly, arms wrapping around him. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself."
He was crying openly now, voice cracking. "She was right next to me. I turned away for one second."
Ji-Ah held him firmly, even though her ankle screamed in protest. "You didn't do anything wrong. She's strong. Nisa's strong, remember?"
He nodded weakly but didn't let go.
A doctor approached.
Ha-Joon was already there.
"How is she," he asked. Calm. Controlled. Every emotion locked behind his eyes.
The doctor sighed. "It was bad. Internal injuries, heavy impact. But she's out of danger."
Ji-Ah's breath left her in a rush.
"She was lucky," the doctor continued. "Very lucky. You brought her in on time."
Do-Hyun covered his mouth, tears spilling again.
"Can we see her," Ha-Joon asked immediately.
The doctor nodded. "Yes. She's awake, but only for a short while."
Ji-Ah's hands trembled as she let go of Do-Hyun.
"She's okay," she whispered, like saying it louder might break it.
Ha-Joon glanced back at her.
For a brief moment, the hard edge in his eyes softened.
"Let's go," he said.
As they followed the doctor down the hallway, Ji-Ah's worry pressed heavy on her chest.
Her steps were uneven, her face pale, her eyes fixed ahead.
Please be okay.
Just please be okay.