The following evening, Ga-young was still glued to her system at the office, eyes skimming lines of the project proposal as her fingers typed tirelessly. The building had grown cold and empty around her, every sound swallowed by silence—except for the soft, steady rhythm of her keystrokes.
She leaned back with a sigh, stretching her arms above her head, when a voice cut through the quiet.
"You can leave the rest. I'll complete it."
Her heart skipped. She turned sharply to find Min-jae standing beside her, a steaming cup of coffee extended in his hand. His other hand cradled one for himself, the warm aroma instantly weaving into the air.
"Mr. Min-jae? I thought you'd gone home," she said, hesitantly taking the cup.
He smirked lightly. "And what kind of boss would that make me?" His tone was teasing, but there was something softer beneath it as he leaned over her chair, close enough for his cologne to mix with the coffee. His gaze swept over her screen. "You've gone a long way already."
Her pulse stumbled, but she kept her tone steady. "It's easy to write a proposal for Adore Enterprise. I've worked there. I know what they want—what they need."
He hummed, taking a slow sip of his coffee, still scanning the document. "Impressive. Why hasn't the company partnered with them before?"
"We tried," she admitted, her attention slipping from the screen to him. "But it didn't work out. That was our first rejection."
He set his cup down, fingers brushing hers as he adjusted the mouse. The touch was fleeting, accidental—yet it sent a spark straight through her. She froze, breath caught, while he remained entirely unbothered, eyes fixed on her work.
The glow of the monitor highlighted the sharp cut of his jaw, the calm intensity in his features. When his shoulder brushed hers, it was steady, unhurried—like closeness was something he wore naturally.
"Have you had dinner yet?" His question was casual, though his eyes didn't leave the screen.
Her voice came out softer than intended. "No… I usually have it with my mom."
That made him pause. His gaze flicked briefly to her, something unreadable passing there, before he stepped back. "Then let's stop here. I'll take you home."
"No." The word burst out too fast, too sharp.
He raised a brow, amused and questioning. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she scrambled, "What I meant is… I can just take a taxi."
"It'll be hard to find one this late. Risky too." His voice carried a quiet finality.
"I'll be fine. I don't want to trouble you—"
"Your mom must be waiting," he cut in, no room for debate.
Ga-young exhaled, cornered. "Yes, sir." She began packing her things.
---
Minutes later, she was seated in his car. The silence between them was thick, the only movement her gaze fixed firmly outside the window, avoiding his presence.
Then—a single raindrop traced the glass. Another followed, until the drizzle deepened into a sudden curtain of rain. Min-jae's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he watched the road blur out.
"Can you stop here, please?" she blurted.
Min-jae pulled over, concern etched in his voice. "Are you alright?"
Before she could answer, the rain crashed harder, heavy and relentless.
"Let's just wait here until it stops," she murmured.
"But your mother—she'll be worried," he pressed.
"I'm sure she won't even notice," Ga-young said, waving it off.
He let out a breath, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then I'll get you a taxi."
"No." Too quick. "I'm okay here."
He smirked faintly. "You don't have to worry about me. I've gotten over my ombrophobia."
"I can't be sure," she said, releasing a quiet sigh.
His eyes softened, voice dipping low. "I can't believe you still remember."
"How could I forget?" she whispered back.
Her sincerity hit him like an unexpected chord. He looked at her a moment longer than necessary, then turned away with a faint smile.
The storm outside thickened, turning the car into a little world of its own. The silence that followed wasn't empty—it pulsed with an almost fragile intimacy.
When he stiffened slightly at a sharp burst of rain, she reached forward and turned up the music, the soft melody filling the car.
"I don't like the rain either," she said.
"You used to love it tho," he murmured.
She met his eyes briefly. "I prefer the snow now."
He smiled, almost knowingly. "Are you sure your mom won't be worried?"
Ga-young shook her head, a playful curve tugging her lips. "She won't. Honestly… I stayed late to escape chores."
Min-jae blinked, then chuckled. "You don't really mean that, do you?"
"She wanted me to help with the kimchi." She said it as though confessing a crime. "Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?"
"No." He chuckled again.
"Well, it's torture. Especially with my mom. She turns it into a battlefield," she said, shaking her head.
"I doubt it's that bad. She seemed nice when I met her."
Ga-young scoffed. "She was nice because you're handsome. Trust me, she's not that generous."
Min-jae laughed, a sound rich and unrestrained.
And Ga-young… she couldn't help it. Her lips curved, her chest tightened. Watching him laugh like that felt like winning something she hadn't even known she was chasing. She wanted to freeze time, to hold on to this moment forever. But forever wasn't hers. That truth made the sweetness ache.
"Oh—look." His voice softened as the rain began to ease. "It finally stopped."
Her face faltered, disappointment flashing before she could mask it with a smile. But he noticed. He always noticed.
"Let's have dinner first," he said quietly, his tone almost a suggestion, almost a command. "Then I'll take you home."
This time, she didn't argue. She just nodded—grateful, a little nervous, and strangely… happy.
---
The dinner passed in quiet ease, their earlier tension softening into something gentler. By the time Min-jae pulled the car out of the restaurant's lot, the city lights blurred into a watercolor glow, the streets still glistening from the earlier rain.
Ga-young sat in the passenger seat, her bag on her lap, fingers tracing the zipper as if it could anchor her wandering thoughts. She wanted to speak—say anything—but the silence between them felt fragile, like spun glass.
Min-jae's grip on the wheel was steady, the other hand resting lightly against the gearshift. His profile was calm, unreadable, but every so often his gaze darted toward her—swift, careful glances he didn't think she'd catch.
The rainclouds had scattered now, leaving a velvet sky scattered with faint stars. Inside the car, the air carried a warmth that hadn't been there before, the kind born from quiet laughter and conversations that linger long after they end.
When he pulled up in front of her house, the headlights washed the gate in soft white. For a moment, neither moved.
Ga-young's hand hovered over the door handle, hesitant. "Goodnight, Mr. Min-jae."
But before she could step out, his voice stopped her.
"Thanks… for tonight."
Her lips curved, almost against her will. "It was nothing. I'm sure the rain wouldn't have caught you if you hadn't insisted on driving me home."
"I don't regret it," he said, too casually for words that carried so much weight. His gaze flicked to her, steady this time. "I'm just glad it's you who knows my secret—and not anyone else."
Her chest tightened, warmth blooming so suddenly she almost laughed from the rush of it. The only thing she didn't do was scream.
"You should go in now, Ms. Choi," he added, his tone gentler than she'd ever heard.
Ga-young swallowed, nodded. "I should." She stepped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Through the windshield, he gave her one last smile before driving off. She stood frozen under the porch light, her hand pressed against her chest as though it could steady her racing heartbeat.
"Am I… hearing things?" she whispered, cheeks flushed crimson.
"Ga-young?"
She spun around to find her mother walking briskly up the path, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"You—!" Mrs. Choi flicked her daughter's arm with a light slap. "Where on earth have you been? I've done all the chores myself. And who was that man dropping you off in such a fancy car?"
"I'm sorry, Mother," Ga-young said quickly, looping her arm through her mother's with an apologetic grin.
Mrs. Choi wasn't having it. "I'm scolding you, and you're smiling? And blushing, too! Was that your boyfriend?"
Ga-young's face turned even redder. "No! He's my boss."
Her mother gasped as though she'd just uncovered a scandal. "Your boss? You're dating your boss?"
"Mother," Ga-young groaned, releasing her grip.
"Then why did he bring you home at this hour?"
"Because it was raining," she said, slipping past her toward the door. "Now stop interrogating me. I'm tired mother."
Mrs. Choi pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced, though her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Well… at least he's rich," she muttered, trailing her daughter into the house with a triumphant smile.