The station hummed with its usual rhythm—the low clatter of keyboards, the faint ringing of phones, the quiet shuffle of papers. Yet, for Kim So Hee, everything felt off.
Ha Eun had returned.
She moved through the station with the confidence of someone who knew she belonged there. Calm. Professional. Composed.
And disturbingly close to So Hee.
So Hee noticed every small detail—the tilt of Ha Eun's head, the brief flickers of her gaze, the way she lingered near the files So Hee handled.
She stiffened, forcing herself to remain calm. Keep your distance. Keep control. Don't give her any reason to draw close again.
Soo Bin, stationed a few desks away, noticed the subtle shifts.
Her chest tightened every time Ha Eun glanced at So Hee, even fleetingly. She could feel a possessive heat building inside her. Why does she have this effect on me?
She clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay seated. She wasn't ready to confront her feelings—not yet.
Ha Eun approached So Hee's desk with a folder.
"So, about this case…" she began, her voice smooth and measured.
"I told you—I'm handling it. Follow procedure," So Hee replied firmly, her tone professional but distant.
Ha Eun tilted her head slightly, unbothered. "Of course. But it might be easier if we review it together. Don't you think?"
So Hee's jaw tightened. "I don't need your help."
Professional. Controlled. But inside, her heart fluttered slightly—a small, almost imperceptible stir she refused to acknowledge.
Ha Eun didn't step back. She placed the folder gently on the desk, leaning just enough to keep her presence felt.
"You've changed," she said softly, almost conversational. "Still amazing, but… more reserved now."
So Hee kept her eyes on the papers, holding her composure. "People change," she said simply.
Soo Bin's gaze remained fixed on them from across the room. Each subtle interaction, each lingering glance, made her chest tighten. She felt something deep and unfamiliar—jealousy, protectiveness, and an almost painful awareness that So Hee's past was very present.
She didn't act yet. She couldn't. Not while So Hee was calm, composed, and seemingly untouched.
Ha Eun moved with deliberate patience. She reviewed some files, asked a few questions, and every so often, her eyes would drift to So Hee. Persistent, quiet, unyielding.
So Hee noticed, of course. She felt a flicker of emotion she didn't like—memories of their two-year relationship, the laughter, the fights, the heartbreak. She didn't want to admit it, but Ha Eun's presence stirred something inside her. Something she wasn't ready to face.
Hours passed. The tension in the station was subtle but heavy. Every step Ha Eun took, every professional word she spoke, was a reminder that she hadn't truly left—she had returned, and she was still a force So Hee couldn't ignore.
Soo Bin remained at her desk, silently observing, feeling the possessive tension coil tighter in her chest. She didn't speak, but she vowed silently: she would protect So Hee from Ha Eun, no matter what.
So Hee took a deep breath, straightening in her chair. She wouldn't give Ha Eun an inch. Not now, not ever. She was resolute. Firm. Professional.
And yet, as she glanced briefly at the other woman, she couldn't deny the flutter in her chest, the tiniest crack in her composure.