The soft hum of computers faded as the office wound down. A clock on the wall ticked 5:00 p.m., and the fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the rows of desks. Fingers tapped final keystrokes, laptops shut with a gentle click, and chairs scraped softly against the floor.
Eun-ji leaned back in her chair, stretching her shoulders. Mi-ran and Eun-chae were doing the same, gathering their things in practiced motions.
"Alright. I'm heading out before Director Park changes his mind about letting us go," Mi-ran said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She jingled her car keys. "I'm driving. You two want a ride?"
"Absolutely," Eun-chae groaned, wincing dramatically. "My feet stopped working an hour ago."
Eun-ji exhaled and shook her head. "I think I'll walk. Feels like I need it today."
"Wow... the forties really are creeping in," Eun-chae teased, grinning.
Eun-ji raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Keep talking, and I'll show you how sharp a forty-year-old's reflexes still are."
With mock precision, she lifted her purse and swung it at them.
"Brats!"
Eun-chae yelped. Mi-ran shrieked. They dodged, laughing, rushing for the exit.
"Help! Elder abuse!" Eun-chae called back.
"File it under 'Purse Assault'!" Mi-ran shouted.
Eun-ji shook her head, chuckling softly. She followed them out slower, savoring the quiet smile tugging at her lips.
Night had fallen when Eun-chae stepped into Whisper Grounds Café. The small wooden chair creaked beneath her, and she noticed the little legs swinging beneath it. Bright eyes peeked up at the door, searching, waiting.
The café door opened. A couple walked in, laughing softly. Not the person she was looking for.
Disappointment flashed across the little girl's face. She fiddled with the laminated menu, lips pressed together, shoulders slumping.
"Mr. Jung?" Eun-chae's voice broke the quiet, gentle but unsure.
The girl turned, nodding. "Yes. Sit, please."
Eun-chae hesitated for a moment, then slid into the chair across from her.
"This is Mr. Jung's table?" Eun-chae asked carefully. "I... actually came to meet him."
The girl's gaze was unwavering. "I know. Mr. Jung is my father. Actually... I'm looking for a mom."
Eun-chae blinked, caught off guard.
"My dad doesn't know I did this," the girl whispered. "I saw my grandmother sending profiles for him... and I chose you. I arranged this date myself."
Eun-chae's shoulders relaxed. She smiled gently, warmth blooming inside her chest.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Mi-rae," the girl said simply. The name lingered softly in Eun-chae's mind.
"That's beautiful," Eun-chae replied, smiling sincerely. "And you're beautiful too, Mi-rae."
Mi-rae beamed, folding her hands politely on the table, then leaned forward with hopeful eyes.
"Will you be my mom?"
Eun-chae's smile faltered. The weight of that question sank deeper than she expected.
Before she could answer, a sharp voice sliced through the air.
"I didn't know you were in the business of luring children into cafés now."
Eun-chae turned. Standing there, calm but imposing, was Officer Jung—same as always, same sharp eyes, same impossible authority.
"Appa!" Mi-rae exclaimed, her excitement mixing with confusion. "Wait... you two know each other?"
Eun-chae rose, keeping her tone steady, firm. "Mr. Jung—I didn't lure anyone. Your daughter invited me. On her own."
Jung's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, taking Mi-rae's hand protectively. "You shouldn't have come. And you—stay away from her. From us. Don't cross paths with us again."
The café had gone silent. Every pair of eyes seemed to fix on her. Eun-chae felt the weight of the stares, the quiet judgment, the unspoken questions. She swallowed hard, gathered her dignity, and walked out quickly, head down, heart heavy, but her composure intact.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving only the lingering scent of coffee and quiet whispers in the air.