Seon-woo woke up to the kind of quiet that didn't feel like morning yet—soft, bluish, and still. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was. All he saw was a white ceiling, a small hanging ornament shaped like a star, and faint light creeping through curtains patterned with pale flowers.
Then the smell of something warm drifted in—miso soup maybe, or porridge—and it clicked.
Ji-Hyun's house.
He shifted slightly and winced at the sudden sting in his ankle. The fall from last night came back in flashes: the slip, the sharp twist, Ji-Hyun's gasp, her arm around him, the slow walk up the stairs to her apartment. Her insisting that he stay because him walking home in pain was "literally the worst idea she'd ever heard."
And then—her lending him a spare blanket, her cheeks pink, her voice too fast as she muttered, "It's not weird, okay?"
He'd slept on the couch, but even then, the house had felt full—of her.
He sat up gently, propping a pillow behind his back. The room was neat, tiny, and somehow very her. Soft. Warm. Practical.
The door opened quietly.
Ji-Hyun stepped in wearing an oversized hoodie, her hair tied messily, her expression caught halfway between concern and embarrassment.
"Oh. You're awake." She blinked twice, like she was trying to hide the fact she had been checking on him every ten minutes.
"I think so," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Unless I'm dreaming and this is some alternate universe where you know how to cook."
She narrowed her eyes. "I can cook."
"Last week you tried to make noodles and almost burned your pan."
"That pan was old."
"It was new, Ji-Hyun."
She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. "Whatever. I made porridge. Sit still. Don't move your ankle."
She walked over to place the tray on the coffee table—very carefully, like she was afraid any sudden movement might cause him to fall again by pure association.
"How's your foot?" she asked softly.
He rotated it a tiny bit. "Better than last night. Still hurts though."
She knelt beside the couch, checking his ankle without touching it. Her brows furrowed the same way they did when she concentrated during work.
"You need rest. And ice. And you're not leaving until you can walk properly."
He blinked. "You're keeping me hostage?"
"I'm keeping you alive. Big difference."
Their eyes met—hers steady, his a little caught off guard. He'd seen her act annoyed, flustered, amused, tired… but this? This calm seriousness?
It was new.
She stood up too quickly, clearing her throat. "Eat."
He took the bowl. "Did you also cook this without setting anything on fire?"
She swatted his shoulder lightly. "Just eat it."
He laughed and took a spoonful. It was good—warm, mild, comforting.
He wasn't sure if the taste was comforting or the fact that she'd made it for him.
For a second, neither spoke.
Something shifted again—like the air between them understood something they still didn't know how to say.
She cleared her throat. "I'll wash these. Just… stay."
He nodded.
She turned away, but her steps were slower than before.By the time lunch was ready, the tension had settled into something gentler. Ji-Hyun brought the tray over again and sat on the floor beside the couch.
"You know," she said while scooping rice onto a plate, "if you tell Mina any of this happened, I will personally make sure you never win another argument."
"That's impossible. I win every argument."
"You literally lost one five minutes ago."
"Technicality."
She rolled her eyes but her smile gave her away.
They ate together quietly. Each bite felt like the kind of moment that shouldn't be loud anyway.
When they finished, she gathered the dishes. He reached out—instinctively—to help, but she shook her head.
"Rest. Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"I'm your caretaker right now. Respect the authority."
His throat tightened unexpectedly.
Caretaker.
No one had ever said that about him. Not like that.
"Ji-Hyun," he said softly.
She looked at him.The rest of the afternoon passed in little moments—her bringing him water, him teasing her about her terrible handwriting, her adjusting the blanket around him even though he insisted he wasn't cold.
None of it was dramatic.
None of it was loud.
But something was undeniably different.
And they both felt it.
Neither said it.
But the silence between them did.
It was no longer the distance they used to hide behind.
It was the space they finally felt comfortable sharing.
It was the feeling they denied hiding.
That evening Ji-Hyun went out to get some ramyeon for herself and Seon-Woo as she wasn't that good in cooking anyways.
_____
Ji-Hyun's apartment
On the couch laid Seon-Woo drowning in his own thoughts about how his pride is left in the dust.
Right then, the apartment door clicked with with Ji-Hyun carrying a grocery bag and a tub of icecream. "Woah! that much icecream? No wonder your hands feel so cold." Seon-Woo teased."
"Do you want it or not?" Ji-Hyun replied giving him a side eye. "Hey hey, easy over there. I was just teasing. His lips curled.
Ji-Hyun prepared the ramyeon and gave a bowl to Seon-Woo. She sat beside him on the couch eating her bowl.
That night, Seon-Woo slept in the guest bedroom and Ji-Hyun slept on the couch so if he needed her, she could come.
Seon-Woo called her. "Ji-Hyun" Ji-Hyun practically ran to the room. Seon-Woo was sitting their looking at her. "Please, don't sleep on the couch." Their eyes met and something sparked between them....