The office was silent, lit only by the dull gray of the overcast afternoon.
Ethan stood in front of the wide window, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched the rain tap against the glass. Behind him, his desk was covered with neatly arranged reports, schedules, and intel.
All untouched.
His thoughts weren't on business.
They were on her.
And that was what disturbed him the most.
Ethan prided himself on control—on keeping his emotions in check. But since last night, something inside him had shifted.
She saw the ugliest part of him. And she stayed.
She smiled when she should've walked away.
She forgave him when he didn't deserve it.
And now, every time he thought of her…
He felt warmth.
He moved away from the window, unable to stay still. He paced once, then again, before finally stopping in front of the mirror on the wall.
He stared at his reflection.
Same sharp eyes. Same cold presence.
But now… something was wrong.
Something was different.
"What the hell is happening to me…" he murmured.
He'd used her.
Manipulated her into a marriage.
Built a deal with a killer to get revenge.
It should've been simple.
But she complicated everything.
Her laughter. Her loyalty. Her pain. Her fire.
She was the one unpredictable variable in his otherwise perfect equation.
"Is this guilt?"
"No… not just guilt."
"Is it sympathy?"
"No—she's stronger than me."
He swallowed hard.
"Do I… feel something?"
The thought echoed in his head like thunder.
He gritted his teeth.
"I don't fall for people. I don't need anyone."
He looked down at his own hands—steady as always.
But his heart… wasn't.
"So why do I want to protect her?"
Not just use her. Not just win.
Protect.
Cherish.
Understand.
Ethan Kim had never loved anyone.
And yet now, the ghost of that emotion stirred again—for someone he had once thought unworthy.
He exhaled sharply.
"Han Soo Ah… what are you doing to me?"
______________
The clink of silverware echoed in the quiet dining room.
Ethan sat, as always, at the far end of the long table, sipping his wine while Soo Ah sat on the opposite side, humming softly as she poked at the rice on her plate.
"You know," Soo Ah said with a sly smile, "I used to think it'd take a lifetime to win you over."
Ethan didn't look up from his food.
"Still might."
She grinned, undeterred. "Oh? But look at you now—sitting in the same house, eating dinner with me, tolerating my voice every day. That's progress."
"That's survival," he replied calmly.
"It's love," she teased.
He paused. Briefly.
That was all the encouragement Soo Ah needed.
"Soon, you won't be able to live without me. You'll wake up and wonder how you ever lived before Soo Ah came along and made your emotionally constipated life a little brighter."
Ethan gave her a long, flat stare. "Emotionally constipated?"
"Painfully."
She took a proud sip of water, smiling behind the glass—until it slipped from her hand.
The glass hit the marble floor with a sharp crash, splintering into shards. Soo Ah jerked back instinctively, but a thin red line appeared across her lower leg where a fragment grazed her.
"Damn it," she muttered, wincing.
She moved to stand, brushing it off casually.
"It's just a scratch—"
But Ethan was already at her side.
Fast.
Too fast.
He knelt beside her, inspecting the cut with sharp eyes, fingers hovering above her skin like he wanted to touch but didn't trust himself to.
"You should be more careful," he said, voice tight. "You could've been seriously hurt."
"Ethan, it's barely—"
"You're bleeding."
His jaw was clenched, brows drawn. This wasn't his usual indifference.
He was… worried.
Genuinely.
Soo Ah blinked. Then… smiled.
"Wow. You really have fallen for me."
He looked up, visibly annoyed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Then why are you panicking like I've lost a limb?"
"Because you're reckless," he snapped, standing. "And careless. And annoying. And—"
"—irresistible?" she offered.
He looked away, jaw tightening again.
"You're delusional."
"But you still care."
He didn't deny it.
He couldn't.
Instead, he picked up the first aid kit from the shelf and handed it to her without a word.
"Next time," he muttered, walking away, "don't drop the damn glass."
"Next time," Soo Ah called after him, grinning, "try hiding your feelings better. You're slipping, Mr. Kim."
He paused at the door.
Just for a moment.
Then walked away—faster than usual.
Soo Ah looked down at her cut, then back at the doorway he'd disappeared through.
"Gotcha," she whispered with a little smirk.
__________________
The hallway was quiet—too quiet.
Ethan sat in his office down the corridor, eyes scanning the intel reports that he hadn't really been reading for the past ten minutes.
His mind kept drifting back to dinner.
To the blood on Soo Ah's leg.
To the way he'd overreacted.
I'm losing it, he thought.
Then—
"Ahhh! Ethan!!"
A sharp, sudden scream echoed through the hall.
He was on his feet instantly.
The papers scattered as he threw open the door and sprinted toward her voice.
His heart thundered in his chest—panic already setting in.
He found her sitting on the floor just outside the dining room, hand on her leg, wincing dramatically.
"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, crouching beside her. "Did the wound reopen? Is it bleeding?"
"I think… I think I'm dying," Soo Ah whispered, overly serious.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You're not."
"I might be."
He checked her leg. No new bleeding. No swelling. Just the same faint scratch from earlier.
"You're faking it."
"That hurts, Ethan. I scream your name in agony, and this is how you treat your loving wife?"
He exhaled sharply. "You're unbelievable."
"Yes. Unbelievably injured," she replied with a pout.
Ethan stood, turning to walk away. "You'll live."
"Wait," she said with a slight whimper. "It really hurts to walk… Can you carry me to my room?"
He froze.
"Soo Ah…"
"Please?"
She looked up at him with those big, expectant eyes, voice small and sugary.
"It's just a few steps," she added. "You're strong. Probably."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed heavily, and turned back.
"I shouldn't."
"But you will," she grinned.
He stared at her long enough for her to think he'd walk away again.
Then, without a word, he bent down and picked her up.
Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and she tried—poorly—to suppress her glee.
"You're surprisingly warm," she whispered against his collar. "Do all emotionally unavailable men run hot, or is it just you?"
"Shut up."
"You love me."
"No, I don't."
"Liar."
He didn't answer.
The walk to her room felt longer than usual.
By the time they reached her bed, he set her down gently—too gently for someone who claimed to be indifferent.
"There," he said gruffly. "Don't scream unless you're actually dying next time."
"So you do care."
He turned to leave.
"Hey, Ethan?" she called softly.
He paused at the door.
"Thank you," she said, not teasing this time.
He didn't look back.
But his hand lingered on the doorknob for just a second longer than it needed to.
Then he left.
And Soo Ah, alone now, smiled to herself—victorious, but also a little more in love.