Hana's POV
The rain had just started as a whisper on the windowsill, soft and steady.
Hana sat cross-legged on her mattress, a warm cup of barley tea resting between her palms.
Her day had been long. Packages sorted, a toddler's meltdown soothed, a coffee machine that refused to cooperate.
She should've been exhausted.
But she wasn't.
She was waiting.
When her phone buzzed, she didn't expect it to be him.
She stared at the notification:
> Today I realized something. You don't have to reply, I just need to say it… I think I'm falling in love with you, Hana.
Her hands trembled.
She set the tea down carefully, like any sudden move would shatter her.
Her breath caught in her throat, her chest blooming with warmth and ache at the same time.
Minji, The world-famous, loved by millions, trapped in a whirlwind of lights and lies was falling for her.
And somehow… she was falling, too.
She didn't reply right away. Instead, she hugged her knees, pressed her forehead to them, and closed her eyes.
Was she allowed to feel this?
Would it survive the noise?
She finally opened the chat and typed slowly:
> Minji... I don't know what this means for you, for us. But I feel it too. I've been feeling it for a while now. And I'm scared. But I'm here.
She stared at the screen.
Then hit send.
Let the storm come.
They couldn't meet outside again due to the rumors so kept texting each other for the time being.
Their messages became more frequent. A photo of the soup she made. A blurry selfie of Minji hiding in a bookstore. A "goodnight" when the stars were already fading.
Minji read her texts more than any script. Hana saved his voice notes like they were relics.
A world only they knew.
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A week later,
After it rained lightly before she stepped outside again.
Near the alley behind the cafe, a child was crying. Hana knelt down, soothing her with a soft story about a cloud that didn't want to rain anymore.
"You're really good with kids," a voice said.
She turned. Minji.
Soaked, smiling.
He held out his hand. "Walk you home?"
"Hmm " as she accepted his hand.
They begin to walk down the narrow alley. It's quiet but for their footsteps.
They walk on, not looking at each other, but not letting go. The alley opens to a street lined with faint lights.
At the rooftop.
The city hums softly below. Stars are faint. She sits on the ledge, legs dangling. He approaches slowly, holding two small cartons.
"I brought you something."
stretches out his hand
"Strawberry milk."
Your favorite, right?
She looks at it, both surprised and touched.
"You remembered?
"Of course I did.
You said it tastes like childhood and pink skies.
I never forgot that."
Minji brought her strawberry milk. She brought him silence.
They didn't need to speak much anymore.
He pulled out a sketch she made at the cafe of his figure hidden in the corner, a silhouette.
"You see me even when I try to disappear."
"That's because you never really do," she whispered.
They talked for hours about books, music, her dream of illustrating children's stories, his childhood, the days he wanted to quit everything.
They laughed. She mimicked his choreography badly.
He teased her about her chaotic painting process.
They shared a pastry and wiped crumbs from each other's mouths like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When the sun began to dip, casting gold over the pavement, Minji looked at her and whispered, "I'm scared, Hana."
She reached over, brushing his bangs from his eyes. "Me too."
Then, in the quiet, without lights or cameras, they leaned in and kissed. Soft, unsure, warm. A kiss that tasted like rain and new beginnings.