Mireya noticed it the next morning.
She was less afraid.
Not fearless. Not brave.
Just… less afraid than before.
She walked into the hospital with the same quiet steps, but her heart was lighter. When she saw Jae near the information desk, holding a cup of coffee he clearly didn't want, she almost smiled first.
Almost.
He noticed her anyway.
"That coffee is winning," she said softly as she passed.
He sighed. "It tastes like regret."
She laughed under her breath. "You should apologize to it."
"I would," he said, "but I don't want to hurt its feelings."
That made her laugh properly.
It felt strange—how easy it was becoming.
They worked in different places that day, but they kept crossing paths. Not by accident. Not exactly on purpose either.
Just enough.
During her break, Mireya sat by the window alone, watching the city move. She thought about the things she never said. To anyone. Ever.
Why are you here?
Why do you look so lonely?
Why do you feel familiar?
She heard footsteps and didn't turn this time.
"May I?" Jae asked.
She nodded.
He sat beside her, leaving just enough space between them.
"You're quiet today," he said.
She smiled faintly. "I always am."
"No," he replied gently. "Today is a different kind of quiet."
She looked at him then. "What kind?"
"The kind that's thinking about something important."
Her chest tightened.
"I'm not good with important things," she admitted.
"That's okay," he said. "You don't have to say them."
She studied his face. "You're patient."
"I learned the hard way."
That answer stayed with her.
Later, while cleaning a storage room, Mireya found an old photo frame someone had thrown away. The glass was cracked, but the picture inside still showed a smiling family.
She stared at it longer than she should have.
"What are you thinking?" Jae asked softly from the doorway.
She startled. "You walk too quietly."
"So do you."
She held up the frame. "Someone forgot this."
"Or couldn't keep it," he said.
She nodded. "Sometimes memories hurt more when you hold them."
He stepped closer. "Is that why you stay quiet?"
The question was gentle—but it reached deep.
"Yes," she said after a moment. "Because once I speak… I can't take it back."
He looked at her with understanding that felt dangerous.
"I wish someone had told me," he said, "that saying nothing can hurt just as much."
She met his eyes.
For the first time, she didn't look away.
At the end of the day, they stood outside again. The sky was soft with evening light.
"I don't know where this is going," Mireya said quietly.
"I don't either," Jae replied. "But I know I don't want to rush it."
She nodded. "Me neither."
He hesitated. Then carefully reached out—not to touch her hand, but to stand closer.
She didn't move away.
That felt like a choice.
As they parted, Mireya realized something important.
She still had many things she couldn't say.
But for the first time…
She wanted to learn how.