The room was dim now, her desk lamp the only light still glowing.
Kim Bum had drifted off for a bit, but not for long. His body, no matter how tired, seemed wired differently in this house.
Or maybe… around her.
He woke up before her, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
The sound of her faint breathing guided his eyes — she was still slumped at the desk, head leaned slightly, one arm hanging, the headphones still in her ears. Wires tangled a little across her lap.
He stood slowly, walked over again, and crouched to her level.
She hadn't moved much.
Just looked… completely at peace.
He reached out gently and plucked one earbud from her ear — careful not to wake her — and brought it to his own ear.
Curious.
A soft Hindi song played — old, honey-sweet, with a raw emotional pull that hit like memory.
He tilted his head, listening.
But then—
She stirred.
Shifted slightly.
And turned.
Now facing him.
Still eyes closed.
His breath caught.
Their faces were closer than he expected.
Too close.
He blinked, frozen.
But then—
She whispered, eyes still shut:
"Hearing my playlist… without letting me know, Mr. Actor?"
His lips parted, caught red-handed.
"…It was an accident," he murmured, barely defending himself.
Still, she didn't open her eyes.
But the corners of her mouth tugged upward — like she was smiling in her sleep.
He stayed there, not daring to move.
Then finally, her lashes fluttered.
And she slowly opened her eyes.
Brown. Clear. Deep. Tired, but… shining.
He stared.
And she stared back.
Seconds stretched.
Neither of them moved.
The air buzzed with something unsaid — soft but loud, hanging between them like silk.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Her gaze made it hard.
Then—
Her phone rang.
Sharp. Loud. Real.
She blinked and turned slightly to grab it from the desk, groggy and squinting at the screen.
He exhaled.
A small sound escaped him.
A soft groan — somewhere between longing and regret — as he leaned back, putting space between them again.
The spell broke.
But the moment?
It stayed.
Quietly echoing in the room they both now sat in — with the song still playing softly between one shared earbud and one heartbeat he didn't quite understand yet.
She stretched, rubbing her eyes as the call ended. "You should freshen up," she said softly, standing. "I'll go, too. Eomma must be awake by now… I'll help her make breakfast."
He nodded — a little slower this time. The weight of that almost moment still lingered. Like a melody that was paused mid-note.
He watched her disappear down the hall.
A sigh escaped him. What a day already...
Soon, the smell of parathas and masala chai wafted through the air.
When he stepped out, freshly washed and wearing the clothes she'd handed him — her Appa's shirt and trousers — he found her already at the table.
But when his eyes landed on her...
He blinked.
She was in a traditional kurta, soft-colored and elegant. The dupatta draped lightly. Simple, yet ethereal.
He didn't say anything — but it showed.
She smiled, catching the look. "Here's your breakfast, Mr. Actor," she teased, setting a plate in front of him with a little exaggerated bow.
She sat with him, beginning to eat.
He ate a few bites. Then leaned slightly, eyes gleaming. "Little fox," he called.
She didn't look up, just hummed, "Hmm?"
"What's your dream boy like?" he asked, biting into the paratha casually, like he hadn't just dropped a live wire into the air.
She looked up, confused. "What?"
"I mean, what's your type?"
"You wanna know why?"
He grinned. "Yeah… like a curious child."
She narrowed her eyes. "Hmm... I won't tell."
"Yah!" he frowned dramatically. "Little fox! You can't do this to me. Tell me!"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Nope."
He leaned closer, pouting now. "Didn't you say I'm your favorite actor? Can't you tell me?"
She giggled. "Okay, okay..."
He lit up like a kid on Eid.
She leaned a little forward.
He leaned in, too.
She whispered: "Nope, I won't tell."
He froze. "Yaaah!" he gasped. "Betrayal!"
She laughed, hiding her smile with the glass of water. He watched her like she had just committed the ultimate sin.
After breakfast, he stood with arms crossed. "Little fox," he said again, deadly serious. "Tell me."
She smirked. "We'll see later."
He didn't like that.
Not one bit.
So he stepped forward — slow, deliberate.
She raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
He came closer.
And then suddenly—
He started tickling her.
"Yah—YAH! Stop!!" she shouted, laughing uncontrollably, trying to escape his hands. "Stop, stop—Kim Bum, you—!"
"Tell me then!" he grinned, relentless.
"No—no! Stop, I'm serious—!"
"Tell meeeee," he teased, leaning in again.
"OKAYYY OKAY! I WILL! I WILL!!"
He stopped finally, smug.
She glared at him, breathless, pushing her hair back. "You're seriously insane," she muttered, still catching her breath.
He just admired her — the flush in her cheeks, the laughter in her eyes. He sat back, waiting.
"You're really curious," she said, sipping water again.
"I am," he admitted. "So…?"
She leaned a little back, folding her arms. "I want someone who understands me. Loves me."
He nodded, eyes softening. "And?"
She looked at him, now with that familiar fox-smile.
"He must have three personalities."
He raised a brow. "Three?"
She nodded proudly. "Ko Seung Tak... Lee Rang... and Joon Hwi."
He blinked.
Froze.
Mouth parted slightly.
She tilted her head innocently.
And that's when it hit him.
He had played all three.
His jaw dropped. "Yaaahh—!"
She burst out laughing.
He blinked again, almost in disbelief. "You—wait—what?? You mean me?! All three of them are me!!"
She shrugged nonchalantly, standing up with her cup. "Oops."
He stared at her as if she had just broken every law of drama.
"You planned that," he muttered.
She only smiled sweetly, walking away. "Told you… you're my favorite actor, didn't I?"
And just like that—
He was left speechless.
Completely smitten.
And this time?
No distractions.
Just one very happy actor chasing after his little fox.
Some more days passed.
He didn't even realize how fast time flew.
Every day with her felt like a scene from some slice-of-life film — simple, quiet, full of little memories. Laughter during breakfast, teasing while doing chores, her mom secretly handing him extra parathas, the late-night movie marathons where she'd fall asleep first and deny it every time.
And today?
He was on the phone, casually leaning near the window, when his manager's voice brought him back.
"We're almost done with the visa process, sir," the manager said, tapping keys on the other end. "Just a few more confirmations."
Kim Bum nodded slowly, "Hmm, okay. That's good—"
But just then—
He heard her voice from somewhere down the hallway.
"Eman! It's raining!!"
He turned.
Seconds later, she came running toward him — excitement painted all over her face like a little kid.
"Mr. Actor! It's raining! Let's go!!"
And before he could react, she grabbed his hand.
"W-Wait—" he tried to say.
But she was already dragging him out of the room like a whirlwind of blue lightning.
His manager was still on the line, blinking and confused. "Uhh… sir? Who… was that?"
He didn't answer.
Because all he could focus on was this little fox — this girl — who was currently pulling him, Kim Bum, one of the most composed actors in Korea, like he was just another boy from next door.
"Slow down, little fox," he chuckled, letting himself be taken.
She looked back at him, her smile even brighter in the soft light of the hallway. "Do you want to miss the rain? Not a single chance!"
He laughed — soft, real, completely charmed.
When they reached the terrace, the view opened up.
Clouds loomed low above, the Karachi sky tinted with soft grey and silver. Rain fell in slow, scattered drops — the kind that whispered before they danced.
She let go of his hand and twirled out into the open.
Her light blue frock fluttered just below her knees, paired with a matching shalwar and a soft dupatta draped around her shoulders. As she stepped further, the rain slowly began to soak her — each drop making her fabric cling just a little, her hair dampening, her laugh echoing softly through the air.
She looked like a dream.
No — she was a dream.
Every raindrop seemed to fall for her.
And he?
He was just standing there, still.
Watching.
Not breathing.
She raised her arms a little, closing her eyes as the rain kissed her cheeks. Her laughter blended with the rhythm of falling water.
Then she turned and called him again.
"Come on! You enjoy also! It's your first rain in Karachi, Mr. Actor!"
He hesitated.
And then she reached out, pulling him forward again with that same wide-eyed energy.
"Don't waste it!"
He stepped into the rain — and it hit him.
Not just the water. The smell of wet earth. The way the city blurred. The way she looked.
Rain soaked his shirt slowly. His hair dampened. But he didn't care.
She asked, still smiling as she looked up at him, "How is it? Your first rain in Karachi?"
He looked at her.
Completely soaked. Radiant.
Alive.
He smiled — soft and honest.
"It's beautiful."
But what he didn't say out loud was—
You're the reason it is.
And in that quiet, rain-washed moment, under Karachi's sky...
He knew.
He never wanted to leave.