Haeun's perspective

Haeun sat across from Minjae, her mug of tea left untouched on the table, cooling in the chilly air. The air between them felt heavy with memory, but she spoke lightly, recounting tales of her life as an idol. Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere. They hovered around him, circling the quiet warmth in his eyes, the subtle twitch of his mouth when he smiled.

It struck her, guilt worming into her heart at the thought, how entirely ordinary he looked. His hair wasn't styled, his shirt did not quite suit his skin tone, and yet there was something about him that pulled her in, something that made her heart ache in a way she didn’t quite understand. She thought of the people she encountered daily in her world—flawless, polished, perfected to the point of sterility—yet none of them could hold a candle to the simple, ordinary man before her. He was imperfect, yes, but in the way a handwritten letter is imperfect, or a well-loved book. There was a sincerity to him that was intoxicating, inimitable.

Her gaze drifted to his hands, resting idly on his lap. She remembered those hands, the way they used to hold hers as though she were something fragile, precious. How long had it been since she had felt that? How long since she had let herself desire that? In the rush of her life, in the endless blur of cameras and lights and applause, she had nearly forgotten what it was to be truly seen, truly known. But now, sitting here, she felt it again—the pull, the gravity of him. It was as though her soul recognized his, as though she were being drawn inexorably back to him by some unseen ****.

Her mouth felt dry, and the tea had gone cold, but she didn’t care. She was too focused on the way his eyes followed her, the way he seemed to drink her in with an intensity that left her breathless. She couldn’t help but smile, and she saw his face soften, his own lips quirking up in response, making her heart twist painfully in her chest.

She thought of the ribbon tied in her hair, a bright scarlet thread almost lost among the dark waves that fell around her shoulders. She had tied it there deliberately, knowing he would notice, knowing it would remind him of their early days. She remembered the first time she had worn it for him, how he had looked at her as though he was dreaming, the way he had reached out to touch it with a reverence that made her knees weak. You look like a princess, he had whispered with child like innocence. She laughed at him then, but the truth was, she had loved it. She had loved how much he loved her, how he noticed every little thing about her. And she had loved how wearing that ribbon before him made her feel—beautiful, cherished, seen, back when it wasn't her job to be.

She lounged back slightly, feeling the small piece of cloth brush against her neck, and caught him watching her. His gaze was warm, unguarded, and it made her stomach flip in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. How could he still look at her like that, after everything? How could he still love her so completely, so unconditionally?

Her voice faltered for a moment, the words she had been saying trailing off into nothingness. She looked at him, really looked at him, the weight of her feelings threatening to crush her. She had been falling for him from the moment they met, and it terrified her to realize that she had never stopped, could never stop. Even now, even after everything, she was still falling, deeper and deeper, into the quiet, steady love that he offered.

He did not notice when she fell silent; his eyes were still locked on her face. There were no expectations in his gaze, no demands. Just that same, unwavering devotion that made her chest ache, so familiar yet so foreign in her new world where everything had a price. She wanted to cry, she realized. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his warmth, his solid reality under her fingertips. But she didn’t. Instead, she smiled, a small, trembling smile that was more honest than any words she could have said.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

And she understood everything he wanted to say.