The dishes arrived one by one, turning the table into a quiet feast. The spicy grilled lobster was placed at the center of the table, steam rising invitingly from the Haemul Sundubu Jjigae beside it. The Osam Bulgogi gleamed with its rich colors, while the Kkaennip Jeon sat kept arranged, crisp and tempting. A bottle of Makgeolli was set down, along with an array of side dishes.
The aroma of food made their stomachs growl.
Ji-hoon smiled and, without a word, began serving the food for her first. She glanced at him. His face, his calm focus, the quiet affection he carried in every movement.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He looked at her and smiled. "Don't thank me for everything."
She lowered her gaze, lips curving into a shy smile.
Ji-hoon put on the plastic gloves and slowly picked up the lobster. She watched him without speaking, her eyes following every movement. The way he handled it so easily, so skillfully, breaking the shell cleanly, separating the meat with practiced care.
He placed the white, tender meat onto her plate.
She smiled.
Seeing that, he added a little more.
"That's enough," she said gently. "Keep some for yourself, too."
"I like it when you enjoy the food," he replied simply.
She blinked.
Her heart fluttered again, warm and helpless, as she looked back down at her plate, suddenly very aware of how full her chest felt.
Then she served him Osam Bulgogi, added a piece of Kkaennip Jeon, and gently placed the plate in front of him.
Ji-hoon smiled, joy blooming quietly in his chest.
She served me food.
The thought lingered, warm and unexpectedly precious, and she noticed it in his eyes.
Once he was done with the lobster, he picked up the Makgeolli bottle, poured carefully into two small bowls, and handed one to her. She accepted it, their fingers brushing for the briefest second.
They began eating in a comfortable silence.
"Hm… this version of Kkaennip Jeon tastes really good," he said thoughtfully.
She looked at him. "You're not saying that just because I like it, right?"
He smiled, eyes warm. "What if it became my favorite after knowing you like it?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are you flirting?"
He chuckled. "Not really." Then softer, honest. "Just genuinely in love."
Her skin warmed at the words.
After a pause, she asked, almost suddenly, "What made you love me?"
He looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said slowly, "what made you love me? A reason. We briefly met twice, and you said you love me. I don't understand how someone can fall for another so quickly without really knowing them."
He studied her face. Her voice wasn't accusing, just curious, searching.
"If you're asking for a specific reason," he said slowly, choosing his words with care, "then… I don't have one yet."
He looked at her honestly.
"But I do love you. Truly."
She didn't interrupt.
"When you're around," he continued, "I feel good. Calm. Happy in a way I don't usually feel. It's a different kind of peace, and it only happens with you."
He paused, searching for the right words again. "It's like my heart recognizes you. Even if you were standing among a thousand people, I would still feel you. That same signal… every time."
He let out a small breath.
"I don't know how this sounds to you. Maybe it sounds strange. Maybe even foolish." A faint smile touched his lips.
"But it feels like I've known you for years, even though it's barely two months. Like I've walked beside you in some other lifetime. There's a connection, deep and familiar. Something that refuses to fade, no matter how much my mind tells me to be logical."
His voice softened further.
"It's not loud or dramatic. It's just… beautiful. A different kind of joy."
She watched him silently, studying his face, the sincerity in his eyes. Nothing felt forced. Nothing felt rehearsed. Still, her heart didn't rush forward, cautious, guarded.
Seeing her face, he smiled gently, understanding.
"You think I sound crazy, don't you?"
She blinked, then lowered her gaze before answering. "It could be infatuation," she said carefully.
"That first spark you feel when you like someone. Sometimes it convinces you it's love… even when it's not."
"I don't think this is just a short-lived attraction," he said quietly. "I know what infatuation feels like. And I know my feelings for you. I've never felt this way for anyone before."
She continued to watch him, unreadable.
He smiled again, a little self-conscious this time.
"I've dated many before," he added, then looked at her carefully and said quickly. "Don't mistake me as a Playboy or something. It was never about intimacy or passing time. I was just… searching. Trying to find something real."
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Ever since I started understanding about love, marriage, boyfried-girlfriend stuff, I used to imagine that someone… faceless, nameless."
His gaze drifted for a moment, as if looking at an old memory. "I don't know why, but I dreamed about that person often. And every time I did, I felt this strange calm. A kind of happiness. Comfort, even when I was feeling low."
He looked back at her.
"So I tried to find that feeling in real people. That's how I started dating people. I kept looking for that imagined person in them."
Another small, honest smile. "But I never did."
He shrugged lightly.
"Some dates happened out of attraction. A high school crush. Hormones, maybe." He laughed under his breath.
"But it never lasted. Two days to a week at most. That's why my dating history is… terrible. It was more like a single outing than anything romantic."
He fell quiet after that, letting the words settle.
She simply looked at him, quiet, unreadable.
Feeling her silence and unreadable expression, he suddenly grew nervous. A flicker of panic crossed his face at her silence.
"I'm not lying," he said quickly. "It's true. You can ask anyone who knows me."
"I'm not doubting you," she said calmly.
He relaxed, smiling again.
"Then you came that night," he continued, eyes lighting up again, "hungry… completely exhausted… asking for food."
She sighed, looking down, not again....