The apartment was quiet again.
Not the good kind.
Ha-rin sat on the sofa, knees drawn up, phone dark in her hands. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the sink like it might offer advice.
It didn't.
I turned off the light and walked over.
"Ha-rin," I said.
She didn't look up. "What."
"We should talk."
She sighed, long and tired. "You keep saying that like it's not going to annoy me."
"I am aware," I said. "It is still necessary."
She glanced at me, then looked away again.
"…About what."
I sat down across from her.
Internally, my chest felt tight.Externally, my voice was steady.
"There's something the agency would expect you to consider," I said carefully. "Something they would bring up eventually."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"…That," she said.
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
She didn't deny it. That told me enough.
"You think I didn't think about it?" she asked quietly.
"No," I replied. "I assumed you did. I just didn't know if you wanted to say it out loud."
She let out a short, humorless laugh.
"I thought about it before everything blew up," she said. "Before the clinic called you. Before I came here."
That eased something I hadn't realized was tense.
"When?" I asked.
"At night," she answered. "When schedules were done and my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. When I was alone."
She looked down at her hands.
"I searched. I read. I tried to be… practical."
I nodded.
"It would've been easy," she continued. "Easy for the company. Easy for my image. Easy for everyone who keeps fixing problems by erasing them."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"And that's why I hated it."
I didn't interrupt.
"I'm not saying it's wrong," she added quickly. "I know people choose it. I know it's an option."
She looked up at me, eyes sharp.
"I just didn't want this decision to be made because it was convenient."
My throat tightened.
"What you choose," I said slowly, "is yours."
She studied my face.
"And if I had chosen differently?" she asked.
"I would have respected it," I said.
No pause.
"…You wouldn't blame me?" she asked.
"No."
"…Resent me?"
"No."
She hesitated.
"…Leave?"
I answered immediately.
"No."
She looked away, embarrassed.
"Tch. Don't answer so seriously."
"I am serious," I said.
She hugged a cushion against her chest.
"…I didn't make this decision because of you," she muttered.
"That is good," I replied. "It should not be about me."
She blinked. "That's all you have to say?"
"Yes."
"…You're really frustrating."
"I have been told."
The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little.
"…Okay," she said after a moment. "Then we don't need to talk about this again."
"I agree," I said. "Repeating it would not change anything."
She stood and walked toward her room, then paused at the doorway.
"…Seo-jun."
"Yes?"
"…Thanks. For asking instead of assuming."
I nodded.
"You do not owe explanations," I said. "But I will listen if you want to speak."
She scoffed softly. "You say strange things."
"Yes."
She closed the door.
I remained where I was, my posture calm, my breathing controlled.
Inside, my thoughts were anything but.
But something important had settled between us.
Not certainty.Not romance.
Trust.
For now, that was enough.