The bar wasn't crowded.
A dim, wood-paneled place on a quiet street off campus, known only to a few students and regulars. The kind of place you went to disappear for a while.
Hana sat alone in a corner booth, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her, watching the rain smear the window glass. The low hum of old jazz filled the room, mixing with the clink of ice and the occasional murmured conversation.
She wasn't entirely sure why she came.
Maybe to escape the weight of her own thoughts.
Maybe to quiet the ache in her chest she hadn't been able to name.
She traced her finger along the rim of the glass, lost in the gentle burn of her second drink, when a familiar voice pulled her from her daze.
"Drinking alone?"
She looked up — and there he was.
Arjun.
Dressed in a dark button-down and black jeans, hair slightly damp from the rain. That same unreadable calm in his eyes, but softer now, something else flickering there. Something just for her.
Hana felt her breath catch.
"Guess I am," she managed, offering a small, crooked smile. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I could say the same."
He slid into the seat across from her without asking, setting his phone on the table. A brief gesture, casual, yet claiming the space as his.
"Bad day?" he asked, nodding toward her glass.
She shrugged, staring down at the amber liquid. "Bad year."
Arjun chuckled softly. "Fair enough."
There was a pause, and then — surprisingly easy — they started to talk. About school. About Seoul. About favorite songs and the ridiculous things their professors said. Hana felt herself loosening with every word, the invisible wall she always kept up slowly crumbling.
It wasn't just the whiskey.
It was him.
The way he listened. The way he spoke, not like the other guys on campus who bragged or faked interest — but like someone who saw things no one else did.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself be seen.
At some point, she realized how close he'd leaned in. Their hands only inches apart on the table. The air between them humming with something unspoken.
"You know," she murmured, a shy grin tugging at her lips, "I think you're dangerous."
Arjun's lips curved in that slow, wicked smile.
"You have no idea."
Their eyes locked.
And for a long, charged moment, the world shrank down to just them. The storm outside. The warmth of the booth. The ghost of a pulse quickening between them.
Then Hana looked away, laughing softly, feeling her cheeks flush.
"Maybe that's what I like about you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Arjun's gaze softened, and without thinking, he reached out — his fingers brushing lightly against hers.
It was enough to send a shiver through her.
"Careful, Hana," he said quietly, voice thick with something she couldn't name.
"You don't know what you're getting into."
But she didn't pull away.
And neither did he.