Two weeks.
Fourteen days of silence.
Mira sat on Seo-yeon's balcony, watching the city lights flicker through the rain-streaked glass. Her phone lay face down on the table beside her, untouched. She hadn't checked it in days.
The television in the living room murmured quietly—another news segment about Park Group's legal battle with Han Group. She didn't need to look to know Jae would be there, dressed in that perfectly tailored suit, his expression unreadable as reporters shouted questions about corporate espionage and forged documents.
She wondered if he ever slept.
If he ever thought about her.
Seo-yeon slid the balcony door open, holding out a steaming mug. "You should drink this before it gets cold."
Mira took it without a word.
Her friend sighed, leaning against the railing. "You know, he's probably—"
"Don't." Mira's fingers tightened around the mug. "Just... don't."
Seo-yeon studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. But you're seeing Dr. Lee today. No arguments."
---
Dr. Lee's office smelled like lavender and old books.
Mira sat curled in the familiar armchair, tracing the rim of her untouched tea.
"You've been quiet today," Dr. Lee observed gently.
Mira exhaled. "I think I'm going to quit my job."
"Why?"
"Because I can't go back." Her voice cracked. "Not after everything. Not when—"
"When what?"
Mira lifted her gaze. "When I know they'll always see me as that girl. The one who stuttered. The one who broke."
Dr. Lee set down her notepad. "And what does Jae think about that?"
"I don't know." Mira's throat tightened. "He hasn't—"
"Have you given him the chance to?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Mira looked away.
---
It came late that night, just as the rain began to fall again.
Seo-yeon answered before Mira could move, swinging the door open to reveal—
Jae.
Drenched.
Exhausted.
His tie was missing, his dress shirt wrinkled and untucked, his usually perfect hair a mess of rain-slick strands. Dark circles bruised his eyes, and a faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
Mira's breath caught.
Seo-yeon cleared her throat. "I'll just... be in my room." She slipped past Jae, shutting the door behind her with a pointed click.
Silence.
Jae didn't move from the doorway, rainwater dripping from his sleeves onto Seo-yeon's pristine hardwood. His gaze never left Mira's face.
"You were going to quit," he said finally, his voice rough.
Mira stiffened. "How did you—"
"Mr. Han called me." Jae's jaw tightened. "He said you haven't responded to any emails. That you haven't set foot in the office since—"
"I needed time," she whispered.
"I know." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "But this—" He gestured between them. "This isn't the answer."
Mira's hands curled into fists. "You don't get to decide that."
"I'm not." His voice dropped. "But I know you, Mira. I know how hard you fought to get where you are. And I refuse to let Eun-ji take that from you."
Her vision blurred.
Jae stepped forward, close enough that she could see the faint scar above his eyebrow—the one he'd gotten defending her from a baseball all those years ago.
"Do you know what I've been doing these past two weeks?" he asked quietly.
Mira shook her head.
"Fighting." His hands flexed at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for her. "Not just for the company. For you. For every damn word you ever had to choke out because no one gave you time. For every time you had to prove yourself twice as hard just to be heard."
A tear slipped down Mira's cheek.
Jae's expression softened. "I don't care if you never step foot in that office again. But don't you dare let her be the reason you walk away."
Mira's breath hitched.
Jae reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He held it out to her.
Her hands shook as she unfolded it.
It was a photocopy of an old school assignment—her handwriting, shaky but determined, filling the page. At the top, in red ink, a teacher had scrawled: "Excellent work, Mira! I knew you could do it!"
Mira's chest ached.
"I kept that," Jae said softly. "Because even back then, I knew—no one was ever going to silence you for long."
Outside, the rain fell harder.
And for the first time in weeks, Mira let herself feel.
---
The elevator doors slid open, and Mira stepped into the office for the first time in weeks.
Silence fell.
Every head turned toward her—not with the judgment she had braced herself for, but with something softer. Hesitant smiles. Nods of encouragement. A few even mouthed, Welcome back.
Her desk was exactly as she had left it, except for one thing.
A small pile of handwritten notes sat neatly stacked beside her keyboard, along with a fresh cup of coffee and a slice of cake on a delicate plate.
Mira's fingers trembled as she picked up the first note.
"We're glad you're back. We should've stood up for you."
Another read: "You're the strongest person in this office. Don't let anyone make you doubt that."
And another: "I'm sorry I didn't say anything when they talked about you. I won't stay quiet again."
Her throat tightened.
A shadow fell over her desk.
Mr. Han stood there, arms crossed, his usual stern expression slightly softened. "Yoon."
Mira braced herself.
But instead of the usual barrage of demands, he slid a single file folder toward her. "Just this one today. And don't even think about staying late. I want you out of here by 4:00 PM sharp."
Mira blinked. "But—"
"No arguments." He turned to leave, then paused. "And… it's good to have you back."
Then he was gone, leaving Mira sitting there, surrounded by proof that she wasn't as alone as she'd thought.
---
True to her word, Mira left at 4:00 PM.
She stepped out of the building, breathing in the crisp afternoon air—only to find Seo-yeon leaning against her sports car, grinning.
"Get in," she said, tossing Mira a pair of oversized sunglasses. "We're going somewhere not here."
An hour later, they were seated at a beachside restaurant, the waves lapping at the shore just beyond their table. The sunset painted the sky in streaks of gold and pink, the salt-kissed breeze tangling in Mira's hair.
Seo-yeon raised her glass. "To surviving corporate warfare and looking damn good doing it."
Mira laughed, clinking her glass against her friend's. For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest felt lighter.
---
They returned to Seo-yeon's apartment just as the last light of dusk faded.
Mira was still smiling from the evening—until she saw the sleek black car parked outside.
And the man leaning against it.
Jae stood with his hands in his pockets, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the faint scars on his forearms. He wasn't looking at his phone. Wasn't pacing. Just… waiting.
Seo-yeon smirked. "Looks like your stalker's back."
Mira elbowed her, but her pulse had already kicked up.
Jae straightened as they approached, his dark eyes locking onto Mira's.
Seo-yeon cleared her throat. "I'll just… be inside." She squeezed Mira's shoulder before slipping past Jae, leaving them alone on the quiet street.
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant hum of the city.
Mira exhaled. "You didn't have to wait."
Jae's lips quirked. "I know."
A beat. Then—
"How was your first day back?"
Mira thought of the notes. The coffee. Mr. Han's uncharacteristic kindness. "Better than I expected."
Jae nodded, as if he already knew. "Good."
Another silence.
Mira toyed with the strap of her bag. "Did you… have something to do with that?"
Jae's expression gave nothing away. "I might've reminded a few people that loyalty goes both ways."
Mira's chest warmed.
Jae pushed off the car, stepping closer. "I also came to ask you something."
She held her breath.
"Dinner." His voice was quiet. "Tomorrow. No contracts. No business. Just… dinner."
Mira's heart stuttered.
Jae didn't rush her. Just waited, his gaze steady, as if he'd stand there all night if he had to.
Finally, Mira smiled.
"Okay."
Jae's shoulders relaxed, just slightly. "Okay."
And for the first time in weeks, the future didn't feel so heavy.