Suite 1901 - 6:52 PM
The moment the front door opened, they both exhaled at once.
"Aah… finally."
A space reached at the end of a long day—The warm lights in the living room welcomed them with the familiar scent of home, and more importantly, a familiar presence.
Celeste slipped off her heels and stepped inside.
"Let's keep dinner simple tonight,"
she murmured.
"Fried rice sounds perfect to me."
Daniel chuckled, shrugging off his suit jacket.
In the kitchen, they moved together like old roommates—wordless rhythm, well-rehearsed.
One reached for a pot, the other started chopping onions.
"I'll do the onions."
"Eggs are mine."
The sizzle of rice hitting the pan, a little cheer when the egg flipped cleanly, the shared glances to check the seasoning—Everything was calm.
Everything was just right.
In the living room, two steaming plates of fried rice sat on the round table, beside chilled glasses of orange juice gone slightly cool.
Wearing well-worn slippers with crushed-down backs, they settled side by side in front of the sofa.
Netflix flickered to life, and they chose a clumsy crime comedy.
"This one didn't get great reviews, but it's surprisingly funny."
"I know, right? The chaebol chairman character is so ridiculously bad it's actually genius."
The screen filled with awkward stunts and absurd dialogue, and more than once, they laughed too hard to lift their spoons.
"That face right there—exactly how you look before going into a board meeting."
"Say that again, and I'll sabotage your dinner."
Even in that playful exchange, their eyes stayed warm, easy.
The kind of comfort that exists only between two people who no longer need to pretend.
Somewhere past the halfway mark of the film, Celeste leaned her head gently on Daniel's shoulder.
Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her, instinctively.
He murmured,
"You ever notice how even doing nothing feels perfect with us? Feels like… we've been together forever."
Celeste gave a soft snort of laughter.
"Please—old couples don't cuddle during movies. They argue over charger cables."
Daniel smiled, too.
"Sounds like we're at that golden in-between… still discovering, but already home."
At that, still seated on the couch, Celeste tilted his chin up with two fingers and placed a soft, quiet kiss on his lips.
It didn't last long, but the sweetness lingered like a faint echo.
As the lights dimmed, they pulled a blanket over themselves and sank quietly into the sofa, warmed by each other's presence.
The laughter from the screen, the glow of headlights from the street outside, even the distant cry of a passing patrol car—The city of Seoul pulsed with life around them.
And yet, in that small moment, not a single sound could pass between them.
Their eyes met—slowly, naturally.
Not forced, not startled, but drawn as if gravity existed only between them.
The kiss came without a word.
Soft at first, then deeper—as if the quiet of the room folded around them like silk.
The kind of kiss that spoke of trust.
Of wanting.
Of knowing exactly how close they belonged.
Celeste's hand rose to his cheek, fingers curving behind his neck.
Daniel's lips moved with hers, warm and certain, until one hand—gentle, deliberate—slipped beneath the hem of her shirt.
His palm grazed the bare skin just below her collarbone, slow and reverent.
Like touching something sacred.
And then—
She exhaled, lightly, a breath against his lips.
"…Wait."
Her voice was low.
Not rejecting—just reminding.
"I have the executive breakfast… tomorrow morning. Early."
A pause.
The kind that settles between two hearts, reluctantly.
Daniel drew in a breath.
A faint sigh, the kind that holds both longing and restraint.
"…Right."
His forehead leaned gently against hers, his voice quiet.
"I forgot."
Fingers still resting against her skin, he didn't move away immediately.
He simply stayed like that—still close, still holding her.
But not crossing that line.
Not tonight.
"Another time… but not too far from now..."
he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Celeste smiled faintly, brushing her thumb along his jaw.
"I'll hold you to that."
Daniel chuckled under his breath, pressing one last, soft kiss to her temple.
And slowly, his hand slipped back out from under her shirt.
Not with frustration—
but with a kind of reverence that made even restraint feel intimate.
Outside, the city continued its nightly hum.
But inside that room, in that pause between want and willpower, was a tenderness no one else would ever see.