I walked into the living room, Sean was there, his fingers dancing across his laptop keyboard with a focused intensity. As if he could sense my presence, he turned. When his eyes met mine, he smiled—a genuine, soft expression that made something deep inside me melt.
Good morning Lara """""
I struggled to find my words, my throat suddenly dry. "Good morning," I managed to whisper back.
He looked different today, less like the rigid professional I knew in London. He was wearing black trousers and a simple blue shirt, but his hair was a mess—tussled and dark—as if he'd been running his fingers through it all night. For a fleeting, beautiful second, I felt like we were a real couple, sharing a quiet morning in our shared home.
"An assistant is coming tomorrow," he informed me, his voice grounding me back to reality. "They'll take us to the company and brief us on everything., we need to know ,
It's not far from here—just a few blocks into the heart of Mapo-gu, near the Han River."
He also told me that the housekeeper had come while I was sleeping, stocking the fridge with food, fruits, and drinks. I gave a small "okay" and retreated into the kitchen.
The apartment had such an open, intimate layout. From the kitchen island—a sleek, cabinet-like table with three high chairs—I could see him clearly. My bedroom door was visible from here, and directly opposite was his, with a wide, echoing gap between our rooms that felt like a physical representation of the distance between us.
"Do you want a drink? Coffee?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"I'm fine, thank you," he declined without looking up.
A tiny prick of disappointment stung my chest, but I didn't push it. I started making my own coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air. I opened the fridge to find it overflowing with fresh vegetables and bright fruits, but my eyes landed on the ramyon I had tucked away last night. I smiled to myself, remembering the fire on my tongue and Ji-soo's laugh.
I decided on toast instead. "Have you eaten?" I called out.
"Already had something," he replied, his tone clipped.
I felt awkward then, standing there in my hoodie while he was buried in work. I slathered my bread with a thick layer of jam, the sweetness a comfort, and bit into a crisp apple while the toaster clicked.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered. Sean's phone began to ring—a sharp, persistent trill. He ignored it at first, but it rang again. And again. The tension in his shoulders spiked. Finally, with a look of pure annoyance, he snatched the phone off the table and stood up.
"I have to take this," he muttered, stepping out of the apartment into the hallway, his face tight.
I watched the door close behind him. I took my coffee and my jam-heavy toast to the small dining table. Sean must be so busy, I thought. He had the hard part—the marketing, the sales, the cold numbers. All I had to do was create, not that ,that was easy but i didn't have to deal with all this calls ,staring at charts and marketing stuff.All I had to do was design the clothes that would hopefully save us both, if the tumor didn't stop me first.