Miko returned home after her shift, exhausted. Her apartment was tiny but neat, filled with second-hand furniture and the smell of instant miso.
"You're back late," Hana said. Her twin sister was at the kitchen table, textbooks spread out. She was the quieter one, always studying, always worried.
Miko dropped onto the couch. "Extra booking. Guy's quiet but polite."
"The usual type?" Hana asked.
Miko hesitated. "Not exactly. He's... different."
Hana looked up. "Different is dangerous."
Miko smiled softly. "Maybe. But I think he's lonelier than I am."
They sat in silence. The TV flickered. The room was warm but worn—a cracked lamp, a chipped coffee mug, a stack of overdue bills on the fridge.
Hana pushed her glasses up. "You can't let it turn into anything. You know that, right?"
Miko nodded. "I know. He doesn't even know my real name."
But in her chest, something fluttered. She thought of his stillness, his careful words, the way he listened as if everything mattered.
She knew the rules of her job. But her heart wasn't following them.
She couldn't afford feelings. Not when Hana still had three years of tuition left. Not when their parents had vanished into debt and silence.
But something inside her was shifting.
And she didn't know how to stop it.