She stepped into the studio and slowed to a stop.
The smell hit her first.
Polished wood. Old paper. Quiet.
She sniffed once.Then again.
"…It's still the same," she murmured, almost reverent. "I missed this."
Each step toward the piano felt familiar, like muscle memory waking up.
Then she saw him.
Ha-Joon.
Blue shirt tucked neatly into black trousers, sleeves rolled just enough to be unfair.
His hair was slightly messy, like the room had been arguing with him and lost.
Light slipped across his face, catching sharp edges and softer ones she refused to dwell on.
She swallowed.
Why does he look like this today.
He was seated nearby, typing on his phone, expression unreadable. Then, without looking up—
"Come."
Her thoughts scattered.
She nodded and sat at the piano bench, hands resting awkwardly on her knees.
She glanced at him once.
He met her eyes.
A single nod.
She started playing. Soft. Slow. The notes floated gently, careful, almost shy.
Then she stopped.
Ha-Joon reached beside him and picked up a guitar.
Dark wood. Smooth. Clearly used, not decorative.
He adjusted the strap easily, crossed one leg over the other, fingers settling into position like they belonged there.
He looked at her and said, calmly,
"Still With You."
She blinked.
"…What?"
He repeated it, quieter. "Still With You."
Her heart skipped in the most annoying way.
"That's—" She frowned slightly. "You remember?"
His fingers brushed the strings once, testing the sound. "You said it was your favorite."
She stared at him.
"I said that once."
"You don't repeat things you care about," he replied, eyes back on the guitar. "You assume they stay."
Her throat tightened, unexpected.
"…Jungkook," she said softly, almost smiling now.
He nodded. "Play."
She turned back to the piano and began again.
This time, confident.
The guitar joined in almost immediately.
Perfect timing. Perfect rhythm.
Her hands faltered for half a beat.
Excuse me?
She shot him a look. He didn't look back. Focused. Calm. As if this wasn't impressive at all.
Her thoughts turned sharp.
Unbelievable.Who even asked you to be this good?
But the music wrapped around them, seamless, familiar, warm.
And despite herself, her irritation melted into something lighter.
Something dangerously close to happiness.
She smiled at the keys, shaking her head just a little.
Annoying man…
Slow. Measured.
Clap… clap… clap.
The sound rolled in from the doorway, unhurried, deliberate.
Both Ji-Ah and Ha-Joon turned.
Nisa stood there, hands still mid-clap, a soft smile resting on her face like she'd walked into something familiar. Comfortable.
"Lunch is ready," she said. Then, gently, "And your music was beautiful. As always."
Ji-Ah's shoulders loosened. "See?" She shot Ha-Joon a quick look. "Someone with taste."
Ha-Joon closed the piano lid. "She's easily impressed."
Ji-Ah scoffed. "Says the man who thinks silence is a personality."
Nisa laughed quietly, already turning away. "Before this turns into a debate, come eat."
Ha-Joon walked past Ji-Ah without another word.
She stared after him, offended. "…Did he just dismiss me?"
"Yes," Nisa said cheerfully. "With efficiency."
The dining table filled slowly. Bowls were set down. Chopsticks aligned. Everything neat. Everything tense.
Do-Hyun took one look around and grinned. "Wow. This table feels… emotionally charged. Did I miss something?"
Ji-Ah took a bite and immediately grimaced at Ha-Joon over her rice.
He didn't react.
She grimaced harder.
Still nothing.
Do-Hyun leaned closer, whisper-loud. "Is this a staring contest or a silent war?"
"He insulted my music," Ji-Ah muttered.
"I corrected your timing," Ha-Joon replied calmly.
"That's an insult."
"That's feedback."
Do-Hyun laughed. "Ah. The romance genre I live for."
Ji-Ah kicked him under the table.
He yelped again. "Second assault today! I should start charging."
Ha-Joon lifted his gaze. "Focus."
Ji-Ah rolled her eyes so hard it almost counted as exercise.
Then—
Do-Hyun's phone buzzed.
Once.
He glanced down.
And froze.
The grin drained from his face. His posture stiffened, chopsticks suspended mid-air.
Ha-Joon noticed immediately. "Who is that?"
Do-Hyun swallowed, eyes still on the screen.
"…Kai Wen."
The table went quiet.