The station was alive with the usual bustle, phones ringing, papers shuffling, and distant conversations floating through the fluorescent-lit room. Yet for Kim So Hee, the world had narrowed down to a single focus, and every other noise seemed to fade.
Shin Jae had stopped by her desk, leaning casually as he reviewed a report Soo Bin had prepared. He laughed softly at something she had said, a natural, easy camaraderie between them that drew smiles and subtle nods. To everyone else, it looked harmless—just colleagues interacting. But to So Hee, each laugh, each fleeting glance, struck her like a flare igniting inside her chest.
Her hands curled slightly into fists on the desk. Her jaw tightened. Why is my chest twisting like this? Why does my heart…
She forced herself to look away, but her gaze betrayed her. Even as she tried to focus on her paperwork, she kept stealing glances at the pair—Shin Jae's casual charm, Soo Bin's radiant smile, the way she gestured with her hands animatedly. Something inside So Hee shifted, a heat building she didn't quite understand, yet could not ignore.
Across the room, Ha Eun lingered nearby, observing subtly. She noticed the small signs—the slight narrowing of So Hee's eyes, the faint tension in her shoulders—and smirked quietly to herself. She's definitely protective of her. But she said nothing, letting the scene unfold, her presence a quiet shadow on the edge of So Hee's awareness.
So Hee's chest tightened further. She wasn't sure whether it was anger or something else entirely. Every laugh that Shin Jae shared with Soo Bin felt like a spark threatening to ignite. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself to stay composed, yet the possessive ache in her chest would not subside.
Soo Bin, blissfully unaware, continued her interaction with Shin Jae, laughing at his jokes, adjusting reports, and chatting casually. She noticed the brief tension in So Hee's posture but didn't think much of it. "Maybe she's just annoyed about something else," Soo Bin thought, shrugging silently to herself. She had no idea the fire she was unintentionally igniting.
So Hee shifted in her seat, a quiet heat pooling in her stomach. Every time Shin Jae reached toward a report, every time his hand brushed against Soo Bin's, her breath caught. She wanted to reach out, to pull Soo Bin closer, to stake her claim, but she didn't. Instead, she settled for a tight-lipped expression, jaw set, heart pounding, trying—and failing—to maintain composure.
The tension was silent, electric, filling the space between them with unspoken desire, unacknowledged possessiveness, and the simmering jealousy So Hee refused to name.
Ha Eun lingered for a moment longer before excusing herself. But So Hee's eyes never left Soo Bin. Even as Ha Eun disappeared, the knot of emotions—anger, jealousy, desire, protectiveness—remained, raw and unyielding.
Soo Bin, still unaware, finished the report, finally looking up and meeting So Hee's gaze. The expression she saw was tight, unreadable, but something deeper seemed to linger behind So Hee's eyes—a possessive intensity she didn't yet understand.
By the time the evening calm settled over the station, So Hee's jealousy had burned itself into a quiet, simmering tension. She had fought every instinct to intervene, to assert herself, to claim what her heart wanted—but the battle was far from over.
And Soo Bin, walking home later, oblivious to the true reason behind So Hee's behavior, carried on as usual, unaware that the Lieutenant's heart had already marked her in ways she couldn't yet explain.