As I walk home through the quiet streets, my heart feels heavy with uncertainty and longing. The chill in the air nips at my skin as I pull my jacket tighter around me.
When I finally reach my building, my heart skips a beat as I lay eyes on him—Lee Ye, leaning against his car under the dim streetlight glow. He looks lost in thought, and an aura of intensity surrounds him that makes it hard for me to breathe.
I stand frozen on my feet, unable to look away as I watch him from afar. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, and those familiar features are etched with an emotion I can't quite place. It feels just like time stands still as I take him in, memories flooding my mind…
Then he turns slightly and our eyes meet. As if electricity is crackling between us, my heart races as he pushes himself off the car. He strides toward me with purpose, long strides that seem to close the distance between us in an instant.
"Seo Yeon," he calls out softly when he finally stands before me.
His voice wraps around my name like a warm embrace, sending shivers down my spine as emotions swirl within me—confusion mingles with excitement, and I feel an undeniable connection that pulls me closer and closer to this man.
"Why didn't you text me?" I finally break the silence, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in my stomach. "You could have saved yourself the trip."
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't have your number," he replies curtly, but there's a playful glint in his eyes.
"Seriously?" I roll my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. It's cute how he can be so straightforward yet so oblivious at times.
In a sudden burst of impulse, I stretch out my hand toward him, palm up as if offering a treat. But then confusion flickers across his face.
"Give me your phone," I grit out playfully, with a hidden glint of affection.
He hands over his phone, his eyes fixed on me as if anticipating my next move. With a few taps on the screen, I punch in my number and hand it back to him.
"There," I say satisfactorily. "Now you have my number."
"Thanks," he replies, his voice softer now, almost shy as he pockets his phone. The air between us thickens with unspoken words and lingering glances that seem to stretch into eternity.
As we stand there under the glow of the streetlight, neither of us moves closer or pulls away. Instead, we share a moment suspended in time—a moment filled with possibilities yet unacknowledged feelings that swirl around us like leaves caught in a gentle breeze.
"Seo Yeon…" he begins but trails off, leaving the words hanging between us like a delicate thread waiting to be tugged.
"Yeah?" I prompt softly, wanting him to continue but also feel anxiety due to what might come next.
He looks at me intently, as if searching for something in my eyes—an answer? A sign? But then he shakes his head slightly and smiles instead. "Never mind."
With that simple exchange, it feels like an enlightening moment that maybe we both know that there are feelings—just beneath the surface but waiting for the right moment to break free. Maybe tonight isn't that night…
"Seo Yeon…" he begins again but trails off. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken feelings, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.
"I know why you are here," I cut in, breaking the stillness. "I've been thinking, that maybe it's time for me to quit as your housekeeper." The words slip out before I can second-guess myself, and I watch his expression shift, a flicker of something—concern?—crossing his face. It makes my chest tighten painfully. In that moment, I wish I could throw myself at him and hug him tightly, to seek comfort in the warmth of his presence. The reason behind the whys I quit working for him is long forgotten, and all that is left is this moment—just the two of us under the moonlight.
"Why?" he asks softly, his voice laced with an emotion that makes my heart ache.
"It's just… I need to focus on something else," I reply, trying to sound resolute even as my heart races. "That's all." The finality of my statement hangs in the air between us, thickening the tension.
He nods slowly, absorbing my words as if they carry more weight. The silence stretches again, and I can see the conflict in his eyes—an unspoken understanding that we both feel but are too afraid to address.
"It's cold outside," I say suddenly, breaking the moment. "Why don't you come upstairs before we both freeze out here?"
He hesitates for a moment but then nods, following me into the warmth of the apartment. Once inside, I take a breath, trying to shake off the heaviness from earlier. "Hye Ri is out of town with her daughter," I inform him as he settles onto the couch. He nods again without saying a word, an uncharacteristic quietness enveloping him.
I walk into the kitchen and glance back at him. "Do you want anything?" I ask, hoping to lighten the mood.
"A cup of water will do, thank you," he replies simply.
I fill a glass with water and return to join him on the couch. As I hand it over, our fingers brush briefly—a spark that sends a jolt through me, making me think of wild scenarios of the both of us kissing right there on the couch. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment before I decide to break it.
"So, what have you been up to?" I ask lightly, clearing my throat to push back the immoral scenes playing in my head.
He takes a sip of water and leans back against the couch. "Just work stuff," he replies nonchalantly. "You know how it is."
I nod, but inside I'm curious about what has occupied his mind since I last saw him. "Right. Work."
"Yeah," he says with a slight sigh.
"What about you? Any plans?"
"I'm not sure yet," I admit, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.
He watches me intently as if weighing my words carefully. "I'm sure you'll figure things out," he finally says softly, and there's an earnestness in his tone that makes my heart flutter.
"Thanks," I reply, feeling warmth spread through me at his support.
We continue talking about trivial things—the weather, our hobbies—and each laugh shared feels like another thread weaving us closer together. Yet beneath it all lies a tension—an awareness that we're both skirting around deeper emotions that linger just out of reach.
As we sit together on the couch, surrounded by silence punctuated only by our light conversation, I can't help but wonder how long we can keep pretending that this moment isn't filled with so much more than just friendship.
Finally, he stands up, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's late," he says, his voice tinged with reluctance as he moves toward the door. Each step he takes feels like a small crack in my heart, and I follow him, my chest tightening at the thought of him leaving. Watching him slip on his sneakers, I wish desperately that the night didn't have to end… that he didn't have to go.
As he turns around, our eyes lock in a deep stare that feels electric, as if it could unravel everything between us. The air thickens with tension, wrapping around us like a heavy blanket. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, each beat echoing the unspoken words hanging between us. He doesn't say a word, but the intensity in his gaze speaks volumes.
"Seo Yeon…" he whispers, almost like a soft plea that hangs in the air.
He takes a step closer to me, and warmth floods through my body at his proximity. The intensity of his closeness makes me stumble slightly on my footing. Preventing me from falling, his strong arms instinctively wrap tightly around my waist, catching me effortlessly. My front brushes against his, and I can feel my heart racing wildly against his chest as if trying to break free.
"What are you doing to me?" he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. "You are so beautiful… so beautiful it's almost painful to look at you."
The sudden confession leaves me speechless, and my eyes widen in shock. This was so unexpected. His gaze buries deeply into mine, revealing emotions that trouble me more than I care to admit. Without thinking, my hand rises to cup his face, my fingers brushing against his smooth skin with such tenderness, as if I were handling a precious treasure. He closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as if fighting some inner demons.
Oh! I'm utterly mesmerized by this man before me…
"Whatever it is I'm doing to you," I whisper softly, "you are doing just the same… to me."
His eyes snap open at this revelation but then close again almost immediately. When he opens them this time, I recognize the hesitation etched across his face—a battle between desire and restraint that plays out in silence.
And without a warning, he lets go of me and smooths down his hoodie with trembling hands. His gaze drifts away from mine, avoiding the connection we just shared. Confusion washes over me as my heart sinks. I know what's coming next—I can feel it in my bones.
"Good night," he says awkwardly, laughter escaping him like a nervous release as if trying to lighten the weight of the moment that has suddenly grown heavy with unspoken words. He opens the door and steps out into the night.
I watch him leave, feeling the chill of the air seep into my bones as the door clicks shut behind him. The warmth of our moment lingers in the air like a fading echo, leaving me standing alone in the silence of the apartment.