Mireya tried to convince herself that nothing had changed.
She still woke up early.
She still walked the same hospital halls.
She still kept her voice low and her feelings hidden.
But her heart knew better.
Ever since that conversation with Jae, something inside her had shifted. Not loudly. Not suddenly. Just enough to make silence feel different—less safe, less complete.
She noticed it when she caught herself smiling for no reason.
She noticed it when she hoped to see him at the end of a hallway.
And she noticed it most when she didn't.
That afternoon, she didn't see Jae at all.
Her chest felt strangely heavy because of it.
"Stop," she whispered to herself while organizing supplies. "This is ridiculous."
But her hands moved slower than usual.
Near the end of her shift, Mireya was called to help clean an unused room. It was quiet, far from the busy wings. The lights flickered softly as she worked.
She was wiping the window when she heard footsteps.
She didn't turn around.
"Tell me if this is a bad time," Jae said gently.
Her heart jumped.
She turned so fast she nearly dropped the cloth.
"You scared me," she said, then immediately felt embarrassed. "I mean—hello."
He smiled. "Hello."
He looked tired. Not sad—just worn, like someone who had been carrying too much for too long.
"I didn't see you today," she said before thinking.
His smile softened. "I was hoping you'd notice."
Her face warmed. "I mean—work was busy."
"I know," he said. "That's why I waited until now."
They stood there, facing each other, the quiet room holding their words.
"I won't stay long," Jae said. "I just didn't want to disappear."
Disappear.
That word stayed with her.
"I'm glad you didn't," she said quietly.
They sat on the window ledge, side by side. Outside, the city was glowing with evening lights.
"I almost didn't come," Jae admitted. "Old habits."
"Silence?" Mireya asked.
He nodded. "Running."
She looked down at her hands. "I'm good at staying."
He turned toward her. "That's not a weakness, you know."
She smiled sadly. "Sometimes it feels like one."
They were quiet for a while.
Then Jae took a breath.
"I didn't give you the letter," he said. "Not because I don't trust you. But because I realized something."
She waited.
"I don't want the past to speak for me anymore."
Her heart tightened.
"So I'm trying something else," he continued. "I'm trying… now."
He looked nervous. Truly nervous.
"Mireya," he said, carefully, "I don't expect anything from you. I just want to be honest."
She swallowed.
"I like being around you," he said. "I like how you listen. I like how you don't rush me. And I like that you make quiet feel less lonely."
Her breath caught.
That wasn't a confession.
But it was close.
Very close.
She didn't trust her voice at first.
Then she said, "I'm not good at this."
"I know," he said gently. "That's why I'm not asking for more."
She looked at him, really looked.
"I like being around you too," she said. "And that scares me."
He smiled—not triumphantly, not proudly—but kindly.
"Then we're even."
A loud sound suddenly echoed from the hallway.
They both jumped.
Jae laughed. "This hospital has no respect for emotional moments."
Mireya laughed too, surprising herself with how easily it came.
"That makes two of us," she said.
He stood. "I should go before the walls start listening."
She stood as well.
For a moment, neither moved.
"Will you be here tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Will you?"
"Yes."
That was enough.
As he walked away, Mireya felt something warm settle in her chest.
She hadn't spoken loudly.
She hadn't promised anything.
But for the first time, she hadn't hidden either.
And that felt like courage.