We didn't talk on the way back.
That meant the conversation was waiting.
The moment the door closed behind us, Ha-rin dropped her bag on the table and turned to face me.
"…We need to talk."
"Yes," I replied. "About dinner?"
"No."
"…Then about what."
"The car," she said flatly.
I nodded. "I already decided."
"You said, 'of course me,'" she snapped. "That's not a decision. That's a command."
"It is a conclusion," I replied.
She crossed her arms.
"…I don't like that conclusion."
My mother, who had been very obviously listening, suddenly became very busy in the kitchen.
"I'll check the soup," she said. "Far away."
My father followed immediately.
"Same."
The room went quiet.
Ha-rin took a breath.
"I've paid for myself my whole life," she said. "I don't want to feel like I'm being handled."
"I am not handling you," I replied.
"Yes, you are," she said. "You decide things too fast."
"That is because I think ahead."
"That's not the same thing."
She stepped closer.
"…Is this because I'm a woman."
"No," I said immediately.
"…Then why won't you let me pay."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Adjusted my posture.
Logical explanations lined up—and collapsed.
I exhaled.
"…Because the baby inside you is mine."
The words slipped out.
Too direct.Too honest.
Silence.
Ha-rin froze.
Her ears turned red first. Then her cheeks. Then everything.
"…You," she said slowly, "…said that like it was nothing."
"I was cornered," I replied.
"…You can't just say things like that."
"I can," I said. "Apparently."
She looked away, flustered.
"…That doesn't mean you get to pay for everything."
"I am not trying to," I replied. "I am trying to take responsibility."
"…I don't want to owe you."
"You won't," I said immediately.
"…Then let me pay."
I paused.
Refusal increases conflict.Conflict increases stress.Stress is bad.
"…Half," I said.
She blinked.
"…What."
"We split it," I clarified. "Equal."
She narrowed her eyes.
"…You're serious."
"Yes."
She thought for a moment.
"…Gas is on you."
"That is acceptable."
"…Maintenance?"
"We alternate."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"…Fine."
She pulled out her phone.
I did the same.
"…Don't look," she muttered.
"I am not."
"…You are."
"I am verifying."
She lightly kicked my foot.
"…Idiot."
The transfer completed.
We both looked up at the same time.
Then looked away immediately.
"…This is awkward," she muttered.
"Yes."
"…Don't say things like that again."
"Like what."
"…That."
"I will attempt restraint," I said.
She snorted quietly.
From the kitchen, my mother peeked out.
"…Did you decide?"
"Yes," I replied.
Ha-rin added quickly, "…We split it."
My mother smiled.
"Good," she said. "That's how adults handle things."
Ha-rin sat down heavily on the sofa.
"…I'm exhausted."
"That is understandable," I replied.
"…You're still annoying."
"Yes."
But she didn't move away.
And that felt like progress.