The city blurred past the car windows as Jae Min drove them through the sleeping streets.
Mira sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in silence and in his jacket.
Her dress, ruined by spilled wine, clung to her skin uncomfortably, the cold seeping in.
When they reached his apartment, Jae Min led her inside with an easy, almost careful energy, as if afraid she might shatter.
He kicked off his shoes and turned to her with a small smile. "Come on, you can't stay in that," he said, glancing at her stained dress.
Without waiting for her protest, he disappeared into his bedroom and returned a few moments later, holding a neatly folded set of clothes.
"Here," he said, handing them to her. "Wear whatever you want. My wardrobe's yours tonight."
Mira hesitated.
Then she nodded, slipping into the bathroom to change.
The clothes he gave her a black sweatshirt and matching loose trouser swallowed her frame completely. The sleeves hung past her fingertips, and the fabric smelled faintly like him: fresh soap and something warmer underneath.
When she finally stepped out, Mira found the apartment transformed.
The small table near the kitchen was set.
Takeout containers were stacked neatly, and a bottle of red wine waited, already uncorked.
"You really didn't have to," Mira murmured, touched more than she wanted to admit.
Jae Min grinned, tossing her a wink. "Well, you looked like you needed ramen and wine more than another bad night."
He pulled out a chair for her with a small flourish.
Mira laughed soft, real and sat.
They ate simply at first: steaming ramen, fried chicken, spicy tteokbokki. Mira's stomach, empty and twisted all night, finally settled with the warmth of the food.
Afterward, they moved to the couch, wine glasses in hand, the TV playing some old movie neither of them really paid attention to.
The wine loosened Mira's edges.
Made her braver.
Made her laugh a little louder.
Talk a little freer.
At one point, as she leaned back against the couch, Mira's head swayed slightly, sleep tugging at her.
Before she could tip over, Jae Min's arm shot out, catching her gently by the shoulders.
Their faces ended up inches apart.
Mira blinked up at him, cheeks flushed deep red not just from the alcohol, but something warmer, more fragile.
"Careful," he said softly, his hand steady at her back.
Mira opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
Instead,
She burst into tears.
Soft, sudden.
Helpless.
Big tears slid down her cheeks, her body shaking in small, broken hiccups.
"Mira...." Jae Min froze, panic flashing in his eyes. "Hey, hey, it's okay. what's wrong?"
She couldn't answer.
Didn't even try.
Instead, Mira grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and buried her face against his chest, holding on like he was the last safe thing in a crumbling world.
Jae Min stiffened for a split second then slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around her.
Cradled her.
Let her cry.
One hand moved up to thread through her hair, slow and calming, the other stayed at her back, anchoring her.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You're okay. Just let it out."
He didn't rush her.
Didn't ask.
Just stayed.
And Mira exhausted, heartsick, wine-dazed let herself believe it, just for a little while.
That she could be held.
That she didn't have to fight everything alone.
That night, wrapped in too-big clothes and even bigger arms, Mira let herself break
Just a little.
And Jae Min held the pieces.
Without questions.
Without conditions.
Without even knowing how deeply he was falling too.