Upstairs, Ha-Joon had already changed into his pajamas.
The house was quiet now, the kind of late-night silence where every thought grows louder than it should.
He adjusted his glasses, phone still in his hand, but he hadn't looked at the screen once. His mind kept circling back to the same image.
Ji-Ah standing there.
The glass in her hand.
The whispers.
The humiliation.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, then left his room and headed downstairs.
The kitchen lights were still on.
Yoo-Na was there.
She stood by the counter holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a small plate of cookies.
She wore silky pajamas, the expensive kind that looked effortless but very intentional.
The fabric shimmered under the kitchen lights as she leaned casually against the counter.
"Ha-Joon," she said softly. "You're still awake."
She set the tray down on the table.
"I thought you might need something sweet."
He sat down slowly, distracted.
"Drink the coffee," she said with a smile, sliding the cup toward him. "And eat some cookies. Sugar helps when you're stressed."
Ha-Joon barely looked at her. He took a sip.
Then immediately spat it back into the cup.
"What is this?" he complained, wiping his mouth.
Yoo-Na blinked.
"There's way too much sugar."
He frowned at the cup like it had personally offended him.
"You know I don't drink coffee this sweet."
Yoo-Na's expression tightened.
"I—"
"I always take it with just a little sugar," he continued. "How many spoons did you even put in this?"
Yoo-Na suddenly slammed the tray down.
"I'm not Ji-Ah!"
Her voice echoed sharply through the kitchen.
Right on cue, Madam entered the room.
"What is going on here?"
Yoo-Na immediately turned toward her, her expression shifting into wounded frustration.
"Ha-Joon shouted at me," she said. "I only made him coffee to show that I care."
Madam's eyes moved slowly to her son.
"Ha-Joon."
He sighed quietly.
"Apologize."
Ha-Joon rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Sorry."
Yoo-Na lifted her chin slightly, satisfied.
Madam sat down at the table, folding her hands calmly.
"Now," she said, "there are more important matters."
She looked directly at Ha-Joon.
"You should arrange a new house near ours for the newlyweds."
Ha-Joon shook his head.
"They already decided."
Madam frowned slightly.
"Decided what?"
"They're moving to Thailand," he said. "That's where they'll stay."
Madam leaned back in her chair with a slow sigh.
She clearly didn't approve.
But after a moment she nodded.
"Well… Nisa is a kind girl," she said. "If that is what she wants, then so be it."
Then another thought crossed her mind.
"And who will run Hanryeon Food?"
There was a pause.
Yoo-Na straightened in her seat.
"I can."
Both of them looked at her.
She smiled sweetly, leaning slightly toward Ha-Joon.
"Well," she said lightly, "since I'll be becoming Ha-Joon's wife soon anyway… it would make sense, wouldn't it?"
Her tone was playful.
A little too playful.
Madam studied her carefully.
Then she nodded once.
But her answer came out softer than expected.
"We'll see."
And somehow those two words carried more weight than a full speech.
The kitchen fell quiet again after Madam's quiet "we'll see."
For a moment, only the ticking wall clock filled the space.
Madam slowly stood.
Her silk robe whispered softly against the floor as she walked toward Ha-Joon. When she reached the table, she glanced briefly at Yoo-Na.
"That will be all for tonight," Madam said calmly.
Yoo-Na hesitated.
"But—"
"You should rest."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Yoo-Na forced a polite smile, though her eyes flickered with irritation. She gathered the tray, casting one last glance at Ha-Joon before leaving the kitchen.
Her footsteps faded down the hallway.
Now it was just the two of them.
Madam looked down at her son for a moment, studying him the way only a mother could.
"Ha-Joon," she said quietly.
He didn't look up from the table.
"You need to let go of the past."
His fingers tightened slightly.
Madam continued.
"You should start a new life with Yoo-Na."
Silence stretched between them.
"Forget Han Ji-Ah."
Ha-Joon's head lifted slowly.
His eyebrows knitted together sharply.
"Forget?" he repeated.
Madam folded her arms.
"Yes."
But Ha-Joon shook his head immediately.
"No."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it was firm.
"I will never forget Han Ji-Ah."
Madam frowned slightly.
"She was my first love," he continued.
His eyes looked distant now, like he was staring into a memory only he could see.
"No one ever understood me the way she did."
His voice dropped quieter.
"I haven't found anyone like her since she left."
Madam's expression stiffened.
Ha-Joon leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
"She didn't leave me because she wanted to."
His gaze drifted toward the dark window.
"She left the world."
The words hung in the air like a truth that had never fully healed.
"That's why."
For a moment Madam said nothing.
The kitchen lights hummed softly above them, casting long shadows across the floor.
--
The house was quiet, the kind of silence that settles after a long, exhausting day.
Ji-Ah stood in the kitchen in loose pajamas, her hair tied up carelessly. She moved almost automatically, reaching for the coffee jar, scooping the powder, pouring hot water.
Her hands worked from memory.
Spoon. Stir. Sugar. Stir again.
Only when she set the two cups down on the counter did she freeze.
Two cups.
Her shoulders slowly sank.
"...Right."
By this time of night, she and Ha-Joon used to sit together while working late. Coffee had become their quiet ritual. No talking sometimes. Just the soft clink of cups and the sound of keyboards.
Her chest tightened a little.
She sighed.
"Well… that was stupid."
Ji-Ah picked up one of the cups, stared at the other for a second, then grabbed it too.
Instead of pouring it out, she walked down the hallway and knocked lightly on a door.
Seo-Yeon opened it a moment later, wearing an oversized shirt and looking just as tired.
"Hey."
Ji-Ah held out the cup.
"Peace offering."
Seo-Yeon raised an eyebrow but took it.
They stepped inside the room.
Seo-Yeon took a sip.
Then another.
"Hm."
Ji-Ah leaned against the wall.
"What?"
Seo-Yeon nodded approvingly.
"You make dangerously good coffee."
Ji-Ah smirked faintly.
"I know."
Just then Seo-Yeon's phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Both of them looked at it.
The screen lit up.
Min-Hyuk 🤍
Seo-Yeon's expression hardened instantly.
She flipped the phone over.
Ignored.
Ji-Ah groaned loudly.
"Seriously?"
Seo-Yeon shrugged and took another sip.
"Look what his family did to us tonight," she said flatly. "That wasn't cool."
Ji-Ah shook her head.
"It's not like that."
Seo-Yeon looked unconvinced.
"Min-Hyuk would've said something," Ji-Ah continued. "But he was scared of making a scandal. You saw the reporters."
Seo-Yeon scoffed lightly.
"Yeah. He would've been scared."
She pointed at herself.
"But if he had courage, he would've at least told people I was his girlfriend."
The word hung awkwardly in the air.
Seo-Yeon made a face.
"It feels weird saying it now."
Ji-Ah sighed.
"You shouldn't be angry at Min-Hyuk."
She paused, her eyes dimming slightly.
"Be angry at that tyrant instead."
Seo-Yeon knew exactly who she meant.
Ji-Ah continued quietly.
"He stood there and watched everything."
Her jaw tightened.
"And only spoke when the cameras were rolling."
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then Ji-Ah pushed herself off the wall and stretched tiredly.
"Anyway."
She headed toward the door.
"Get some sleep."
Seo-Yeon looked up.
"Why?"
Ji-Ah glanced back.
"Because tomorrow I'm going to get Earth."
She sighed.
"And my motorcycle. Pip."
Then she added casually,
"After that… I think we're going back to Gyeongju."
Seo-Yeon nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
She took another sip of coffee.
"I thought so too."