🛍️ The Shopping Mall Encounter
The mall was alive with chatter, echoing footsteps, and the glittering reflections of designer brands displayed in wide glass windows. Families laughed, couples strolled hand in hand, and groups of friends paused at kiosks buzzing with energy.
But amidst that brightness, Leo walked with his usual brisk steps, a tall figure dressed in his simple black hoodie and jeans, his cap pulled low. He wasn't here for shopping. He wasn't here to linger. He only came because Jiwon had dragged him along earlier, but after she disappeared into a clothing store with the promise that she'd be "just five minutes," Leo had decided he'd had enough.
And then—
"Mira?"
Her name slipped from his lips before he could stop himself.
There she was. Standing near a high-end boutique, scrolling her phone with that aura she carried everywhere: untouchable, elegant, magnetic. Her long coat framed her figure perfectly, heels clicking lightly as she moved. Heads turned, not because of the brand she wore but because of the woman herself. Han Mira commanded attention simply by existing.
Leo froze for a moment, instinct telling him to turn away before she noticed. He had been doing it for weeks—dodging her calls, keeping their conversations short at the café, finding excuses to disappear. Seeing her here, outside of their usual "battlefields," felt too raw, too personal.
But Mira's head lifted. Their eyes locked.
There was no escape now.
"Leo." Her voice was calm, almost casual, but her eyes softened in a way only he would notice.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "I didn't know you came here."
"I do," she said, stepping closer, her heels striking the polished marble floor. "But what a coincidence… you're here too."
"Coincidence," Leo muttered, looking away. "That's all it is."
She studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "Since fate insists on crossing our paths, how about dinner?"
The offer was smooth, casual on the surface—but Leo knew better. Mira Han never asked anything without intent.
He shook his head immediately. "No. I have things to do."
Her lips parted, but instead of arguing, she let him step past her. His long strides carried him halfway down the hall before—
"Leo."
Her voice carried just enough tremor to make him pause.
When he didn't turn, she moved quickly, heels striking, and before he realized it, her fingers wrapped around his wrist. The sudden warmth made his chest tighten.
"Please," she whispered, softer this time. "I need to talk to you."
The word please caught him off guard. Mira never begged. Not for contracts. Not for board approvals. Not for anyone.
For the first time tonight, he turned to face her fully. Her eyes—clear, unwavering yet carrying something vulnerable—held him captive.
He exhaled sharply. "Fine. Just dinner. After that—nothing more."
She smiled, though her grip lingered on his wrist a moment longer than necessary before she let go.
🍽️Dinner That Cuts Deep
The restaurant she chose wasn't one of her usual Michelin-star haunts. It was quieter, tucked away, a place with dim lighting and polished wooden tables, where privacy was more valuable than the menu.
Leo sat opposite her, his posture rigid, his fingers drumming against the table impatiently.
"Why here?" he asked flatly.
"Because I don't want to be CEO Han Mira tonight," she replied, removing her coat and smoothing it across the chair. "I just want to be… Mira."
He scoffed. "And what's the difference?"
Her eyes met his, unflinching. "You used to know."
That silenced him. He hated how she could throw the past into the present like it was nothing, how she could dig into wounds he had tried so hard to bury.
They ordered, though neither cared much for the food. Silence stretched between them until Mira finally spoke again, voice quieter now.
"Leo… do you ever think about the past? About… us?"
He stiffened. "The past is over."
"But it isn't," she pressed. "Not when it keeps following us everywhere we go. Not when I can't step into that café without remembering—"
"Stop." His voice was sharp, cutting, but his hand trembled under the table.
Mira leaned forward slightly, lowering her tone. "You can keep running, but answer me one thing honestly: Do you really hate me? Or is it that you're afraid… afraid that you don't?"
Her words struck him like lightning.
He stared at her, caught between anger and something else he didn't dare name. The restaurant seemed to fade, the clinking glasses and murmurs of other diners dissolving into silence.
Her eyes glimmered, not with triumph but with quiet vulnerability. "Because I… I don't hate you, Leo. I never could."
For the first time in years, he had no answer. Only silence.
🛋️ Home, Walls, and Jiwon's Teasing
Later that night, Leo sat in the living room, the TV flickering with some random show he wasn't watching. He leaned back on the couch, Mira's words echoing relentlessly in his mind.
Do you really hate me? Or are you afraid that you don't?
He rubbed his temples, frustration boiling. Why did her words matter so much? Why couldn't he just dismiss them like he always did?
The door opened. "Oppa, I'm back!" Jiwon's cheerful voice filled the apartment.
No answer.
She frowned, setting her shopping bags aside and stepping into the lounge. There he was—staring blankly at the wall, jaw tight, lost in thought.
"Yah," she said, walking over and switching off the TV. "What are you thinking so hard about?"
Leo blinked, startled. "Nothing."
"Liar." She plopped down beside him and punched his arm lightly. "Come on, tell me."
When he stayed silent, her lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Ahhh… you're thinking about Mira, aren't you?"
His head snapped toward her. "What?"
She giggled, leaning back. "Your face says it all. Han Mira, the only person who can make my serious brother stare at walls like a love-struck fool."
"Go to sleep, Jiwon," he muttered, scowling.
But as she stood, she threw him one last teasing remark over her shoulder: "Well, you didn't deny it. That means you really are thinking about her."
The pillow he hurled missed her by an inch as she laughed and ran off to her room.
Leo sank back against the couch, running a hand down his face.Damn her. Damn Mira. Damn himself.
Because maybe… just maybe… his little sister was right.
🌙 The Silence After the Storm
The city lights blurred against the car windows as Leo drove in silence. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, but his jawline was tighter, betraying the storm brewing inside. Jiwon had fallen asleep in the back seat, her head tilted to the side, headphones still resting around her neck.
Claire's presence lingered like a ghost even though she wasn't there. The memory of her hand reaching for him in the rain, the way her trembling voice whispered his name, and the stubborn warmth in her eyes—it all played like an unshakable reel behind his eyes.
But he reminded himself—boundaries. He had to keep her at arm's length. Because the closer she came, the harder it would be to protect Jiwon… and himself.
When he pulled into the driveway, Leo leaned back in his seat for a moment, staring out into the night. He thought he had finally left Claire behind at her building. But somehow, she had followed him home—if not in body, then in thought.
🕯️ Claire's Apartment – Restless Heart
Claire lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her penthouse. The city skyline glowed outside, but it did nothing to calm the restless pounding of her heart. She had replayed the moment over and over—Leo pulling her close, his warmth beside her in the darkness, his heartbeat strong and steady against her ear.
And then… the morning. His coldness. The slammed door.
It was enough to remind her of the wall he carried inside, but not enough to erase the fragile crack she had seen in it. For the first time in years, she had felt safe. Not as the CEO, not as the heiress everyone wanted something from—but simply as Mira, a woman who wanted love.
She curled on her side, clutching the pillow he had rested on, breathing in the faint trace of his cologne still lingering on her clothes.
"I won't let you run from me again, Leo," she whispered into the quiet. "Even if it hurts… I'll make you look at me."
🖋 Claire in Her Office
The morning sun spilled into the glass walls of Claire's office, reflecting against the sharp edges of her desk. She sat there with her chin resting on her hand, her usually sharp eyes dulled with thoughts that refused to leave her alone.
Leo's face, his silence, his stubbornness—everything from last night still haunted her.
She sighed, leaning back in her chair.Stop it, Mira. You're the CEO of this company. You don't have time to chase ghosts in your head.
Shaking her head lightly, she straightened, tapping her pen against a stack of documents.
"Work, Mira. Focus on work," she whispered to herself, as though saying it aloud would anchor her.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard with renewed purpose, her eyes sharpening once more. For a while, she managed to drown herself in numbers and contracts. But even as she worked, the faint ache in her chest wouldn't fade.
☕ Break Time Interruption
By mid-morning, Claire rose from her desk and walked toward the break area, craving the grounding scent of coffee. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, a steady rhythm that announced her presence even before she entered.
Just as she reached the doorway, voices floated to her ears. She stopped, hidden by the corner wall.
Two male employees and a young female associate were huddled together, whispering in conspiratorial tones.
"I still can't believe the rumors," one man said, his tone mocking. "Our CEO… dating some random café boy?"
The woman snickered. "She could have anyone—executives, heirs, men who match her status. But a barista? Please."
The other man chuckled, shaking his head. "It's pathetic, honestly. Standards must have dropped overnight."
Claire froze. Their words sliced deeper than she expected. But instead of letting the sting show, her lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile.
Straightening her shoulders, she stepped into the break room with the elegance of a queen walking into her court.
Her heels clicked sharply on the tile, silencing the whispers instantly. All three employees stiffened, eyes widening as they realized who was standing behind them.
Claire didn't spare them a glance. Instead, she walked directly to the machine, calmly preparing her coffee as though their words meant nothing. The hiss of steam filled the silence.
At last, she turned, cup in hand, her gaze razor-sharp.
"I couldn't help but overhear," she said smoothly, her tone polite but edged with steel. "It seems some of you are very concerned with my personal life."
The three swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.
"Let me remind you," Claire continued, her voice calm, deliberate, deadly professional,"you were hired to work for this company, not waste time speculating about your CEO's choices. If I see this kind of behavior again, you won't be wasting company hours—you'll be wasting time at home, unemployed."
Her eyes locked on each of them in turn, pinning them to the spot. Then, with a click of her heels, she moved toward the exit.
Just before leaving, without turning back, she added:
"Now get back to work. Or I'll find people who can."
The silence that followed was absolute. Her heels echoed down the hall like a verdict, sharp and confident.
☕ Meanwhile at the Café
On the other side of the city, Leo was wiping down the counter of his café. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly mussed from the morning rush. Customers trickled in, filling the space with chatter and laughter, but his mind wasn't on the orders.
Every smile he gave, every coffee he poured—it was all automatic. His thoughts, against his will, kept circling back to Mira.
What did she mean last night? Why won't her words leave me?
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus as a customer called his name.
"One cappuccino, extra foam!"
"Coming right up," Leo said, masking his distraction with a practiced grin.
But deep inside, as he moved between tables, his heart whispered questions he refused to answer.
🌙 Leo's Inner Thoughts – The Torn Heart
The wine glass still lingered in his hand, but Leo wasn't drinking anymore. He watched the way Claire laughed, the way her hand brushed lightly against her hair as if she wasn't aware of how dangerously beautiful she looked.
Why is she doing this to me? he thought, jaw tightening. Why does she keep smiling at me like I'm the only man in this room? She doesn't understand what she's breaking inside me every time she leans closer.
He forced himself to look away, pretending to study the chandeliers above, but his gaze betrayed him, always circling back to her.
Her laughter softened, her eyes catching his in the dim glow of the restaurant. For a heartbeat, it felt like they were the only two people alive.
Leo swallowed hard. No. Don't fall into this again. You already swore, Choi Youngjae. You swore you wouldn't let her tear Jiwon's life apart. You can't afford to lose yourself in her again.
But then—another thought slipped through the cracks of his resolve. …And yet, why does it feel like I already have?
Every time she leaned forward, every teasing comment, every flicker of warmth in her eyes—it reminded him of the boy he once was, standing outside her house in the rain, rejected by her father before he even got the chance to speak. That night still haunted him. That boy had loved her so fiercely.
And this man—this man still did.
Leo pressed his palm against his knee under the table, steadying himself. But I can't show her. If I let her see even a fraction of this, she'll break me completely. And then what happens to Jiwon? What happens to the life I promised to protect?
Claire's voice cut into his thoughts, soft, amused, almost knowing."You're quiet tonight, Youngjae. Thinking too much?"
He forced a half-smile, but inside, his chest was burning.
If only you knew, Mira. If only you knew how much of me still belongs to you.
🕊️ Claire's Inner Thoughts
Why does it always come back to him? she asked herself, staring into the emptiness above. No matter how hard I try to focus on anything else—my company, my reputation, even my mother—my mind circles back to him. To Youngjae.
She pressed the sleeve of her hoodie against her lips, as if hiding the words even from herself.
He doesn't even know how deeply he lives inside me. Or maybe he does… maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe pushing me away is easier for him. But for me? Every rejection feels like a knife, yet I still keep running back.
Her eyes softened, dampness gathering at the corners.
Was it always like this, even back then? When we were younger, when fate hadn't pulled us apart so brutally? Did he ever feel the same, even for a heartbeat? Or am I chasing a ghost of love that only I remember?
The ceiling seemed endless, like a canvas where her unspoken questions painted themselves.
I hate how weak I feel around him. How one cold glance from him can undo me. And yet… I'd rather suffer in this weakness than imagine a life without him in it.
Her fingers curled into the sheets as her chest tightened.
Leo Choi Youngjae… why won't you just let me in?
The silence swallowed her plea, leaving only the sound of her own breathing, slow and uneven, until sleep began tugging gently at her edges.
The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock. Claire lay on her bed, her damp hair spread like ink against the pillow. The oversized hoodie clung loosely to her frame, carrying the faint warmth of comfort but none of the heaviness in her chest. She exhaled, long and quiet, and stared at the ceiling as if it could give her answers.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Leo—his stubborn silence, the way his eyes sometimes betrayed him, the way her name lingered on his tongue when he wasn't guarding himself. Why do you fight me so hard, Youngjae?
Sleep tugged at her like gentle waves, and without realizing it, she slipped into a dream.
🌙 Shift – The Dream
She was standing in a wide, open field. The air smelled of spring rain, and the sky was painted with twilight colors—lavender, gold, and silver streaks. A lone figure stood ahead, back turned. His broad shoulders, familiar stance—it was Leo.
"Leo…" she called softly, her voice carrying strangely in the dream air.
He turned slowly, his face half-shadowed, but his eyes—those dark, conflicted eyes—met hers with unspoken weight.
"You keep chasing me," he said quietly, hands buried in his pockets. "Why don't you let me go?"
Claire stepped closer, barefoot, the grass cold against her skin. "Because I know you don't want me to. You're just afraid to stay."
For a moment, his expression softened, almost vulnerable. His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for her, but he pulled back.
"You don't understand… if I let you in, I'll lose everything I've been protecting."
Her throat tightened. "Then lose it. Lose it all to me. I'll give it back to you a hundred times more."
The sky above flickered, as if the dream itself was trembling. His form blurred at the edges. She panicked, running toward him.
"Leo!"
But as she reached out, her hands passed through him like mist. His voice, fading, whispered against her ear—"You can't save me, Claire… not yet."
🌫️ Waking
Claire's eyes snapped open, her breath sharp. The ceiling stared back blankly, but her heart thudded like she had just run miles. Her hand instinctively reached to her side, where she had tried to grab him in the dream.
The hoodie clung to her with damp warmth, and strands of her hair stuck to her cheek. Slowly, she turned her head toward the window where night lingered heavy.
"Not yet?" she whispered to herself, her lips trembling. "Then when?"
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, but despite the ache, something had shifted inside her. The dream didn't weaken her resolve—it sharpened it.
If his own subconscious was whispering that it wasn't time, then that meant one day it would be. And she would be there, waiting, fighting, breaking through every wall until he stopped pushing her away.
Sometimes dreams don't show us escape—they show us the chains still binding the ones we love.
To Be Continued....