Chapter 109 – Like You Live Here
POV: Anastasia Celeste Volkov
The kettle was already whistling when she walked into the kitchen.
He was barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, hair damp from the shower he must have taken after training. He looked so natural standing there, as if he belonged. As if he always had.
She didn't say anything.
She just watched.
He poured the water into her glass mug. Jasmine tea. He remembered.
"You're in my kitchen again," she said after a moment.
He didn't look up. "You keep your door unlocked."
"I don't keep it unlocked for anyone else."
He paused.
Then turned slowly, that quiet gaze meeting hers. "Then I'll keep showing up."
She walked over, took the mug from his hands. Their fingers brushed, but neither of them flinched.
"I should change the locks."
"You won't."
She sipped the tea. "Why?"
"Because I know where you keep the spare key."
She narrowed her eyes. "Remind me to move it."
"You won't do that either."
A pause.
"You sound confident."
"I've had nine months to study you."
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
She stared at him over the rim of her mug.
"You act like you live here," she muttered.
He tilted his head. "Would that be a problem?"
Another silence. She hated how fast her mind spiraled with that idea.
Then she walked past him, brushing lightly against his side.
"Depends. Are you doing the dishes?"
"Every time."
"And the laundry?"
"Already folded."
She turned her head just slightly, enough for him to catch the glint in her eyes.
"Then we'll see."
When she entered the living room, he followed without a word. He didn't need to ask for permission anymore.
They sat on the sofa—not touching, but close.
The television was on, playing some news about the latest hacking crackdown and digital surveillance regulations. She watched absently, uninterested in the noise.
Then his voice broke the quiet.
"Would you have let anyone else stay this long?"
She didn't look at him. But her voice was honest.
"No."
He nodded, like that was all he needed to hear.
A long moment passed.
Then she turned, eyes on his collar where it wasn't buttoned all the way.
"You missed one."
He looked down. "You always notice that."
She reached out without asking—her fingers brushing his chest lightly as she fixed it for him.
Her hands lingered for a second too long.
Then—
She kissed him. Soft. Brief. Clean.
"You're still not very good," she said as she pulled away.
He let out a quiet breath. "Then teach me."
Her smile this time was nearly invisible.
"You're improving."
He leaned closer.
"I'll get better if you keep rewarding me."
She gave him a look—one that was half-exasperation, half-something warmer.
"You're not subtle, Kang Jaeheon."
"Never tried to be."
She didn't say anything more.
But she didn't stop him either when he kissed her again—slower, deeper, with the kind of care that came from memorizing a person across nine stolen months.
They didn't sleep together that night.
But they shared a bed.
And that was enough.
.