The weekend arrived sooner than Ji-Hyun expected.
Maybe it was because her mind had been running nonstop since that night on the balcony.
Since Seon-woo.
She still remembered the way the cold wind had cut across her skin and how he hadn't even flinched. The way his voice sounded detached, almost careless, when he suggested the idea of a one-month contract relationship. And how, somehow, she had agreed.
Now, standing in her apartment, Ji-Hyun was staring at her reflection for the fourth time in ten minutes. The sunlight peeking through her curtains warmed her cheek, but her body felt strangely chilled.
"This is stupid," she muttered at herself. "It's just fake dating. Nothing serious."
But her heart wasn't listening.
Mina's words from last night echoed in her head: Girl… contract or not, you're not ready for another heartbreak. Make rules. Proper ones.
And so she had.
Rules that sounded solid in her notebook but flimsy now that she was actually about to see him again.
Rule 1: No falling in love.
Rule 2: No face pics or social media posts together.
Rule 3: Don't act clingy. Keep it emotionless.
Simple. Straightforward. Safe.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out, hoping he wouldn't make everything harder than it needed to be.
Seon-woo was already waiting.
He leaned against the stone pillar outside her apartment building like he had all the time in the world. The morning looked brighter around him somehow—whether it was the sun or just him, Ji-Hyun didn't want to think too deeply.
He glanced up as she approached.
"You're late."
His voice was calm, not annoyed. Just stating a fact, like he always did.
"I'm on time," she argued, checking her phone. "It's literally 10:01."
He shrugged. "One minute is still late."
Ji-Hyun narrowed her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Most people tell me that." A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't much, but it made her chest feel weird.
No. Stop. Rule 1.
She reminded herself of it like a mantra.
He pushed himself off the pillar. "So? Where are we going first? You said you wanted this to look real. We should at least know each other's schedules."
"I didn't say that," she muttered. "Mina did."
"That makes sense," he said. "Your friend seems… persistent."
"That's one word for her."
They began walking toward the nearest café. Ji-Hyun chose it because there were enough people to make their 'relationship' believable but not enough to draw attention. She didn't want whispers. She didn't want someone snapping a picture and sending it to him—her ex.
The thought instantly soured her mood.
Seon-woo noticed.
"You tense up every time you think about him," he said casually.
Ji-Hyun paused mid-step. "H-how do you know?"
"You're easy to read," he replied. "And you avoid eye contact. People usually do that when they're remembering something painful."
She opened her mouth to argue but closed it again.
"You're very… observant."
"It's a habit."
His expression didn't change, but something in his tone softened. "People like us… we learn to study everything around us."
People like us.
Ji-Hyun wanted to ask him what he meant, but they were already at the café.
The bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside. The warm smell of coffee and baked pastries called out to her, but she forced herself to focus.
They sat in a corner booth. Seon-woo didn't take off his jacket, didn't lean back, didn't relax. His eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on her.
She cleared her throat. "So… I made rules."
"Rules?"
"Yes. For our fake month together."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you're drafting a business contract."
"Maybe I am." She pulled out her notebook, flipping to the page.
There were three lines in neat handwriting. She angled it toward him.
His eyes tracked each rule carefully.
"No falling in love," he read out loud, deadpan. "Interesting."
"Don't say it like that!" Ji-Hyun hissed. "It's just—this needs to stay realistic. Controlled. We can't go around making things messy."
"Messy," he repeated. "You mean emotional."
"…Yes. Exactly."
He didn't comment. Instead, he looked back at the notebook.
"No face pictures," he continued. "Fine. I don't like cameras anyway."
That didn't surprise her. He had a quiet face, an unreadable one—people like him rarely liked attention.
"And don't act clingy," he finished. "Do you really think I'd be clingy?"
"Well—"
"Don't answer that," he cut in quickly. "I don't want to know."
For the first time that day, Ji-Hyun laughed. A small one, but real.
He tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction with the same curiosity someone might give a sudden spark of light in a dark room.
"So," he said. "Those are your rules. Want me to make some too?"
"You? You're the one who proposed this fake dating thing. Shouldn't you already have rules?"
"I do," he replied. "But mine aren't written."
"Then tell me."
He took a sip of water, buying time. Then, calmly:
"Rule 1: Don't lie to me."
Ji-Hyun blinked. "I—I won't. Why would I?"
"Everyone lies when they're trying to heal," he said simply. "But I want you to try not to."
She swallowed.
"Rule 2: Don't pretend you're fine."
Her breath caught.
"And rule 3…"
He met her eyes for the first time since they sat.
"Don't treat this like you're the only one hurting."
Her throat tightened.
There was a heaviness behind his gaze—something old, something bruised.
Ji-Hyun suddenly understood what he meant earlier.
People like us.
Both broken.
Both abandoned by someone they loved.
Both trying to convince the world they were okay.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the table.
"I won't," she whispered.
It was the only answer she could give.
The café door swung open behind them, letting in a gust of cold air. Ji-Hyun shivered instinctively.
Without thinking, Seon-woo leaned forward and slid his jacket across the table toward her.
"W—what are you doing?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"You're cold."
"I'm— I'm fine. Rule 3, remember? No acting clingy."
"That rule was for you."
He pushed the jacket a little closer. "I don't care if I act clingy."
Her heart made a weird jump.
Stop it. Rule 1. Do not fall in love.
She pushed the jacket back. "I'm okay. Really."
He paused before nodding once.
"Alright."
But for the first time since they met, Ji-Hyun felt disappointment flicker in his eyes. It was faint—barely noticeable—but she saw it.
Guilt crawled into her chest, slow and unwelcome.
After brunch, they walked along the riverside. The wind had picked up, carrying the smell of the water with it.
Seon-woo kept his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed ahead.
Ji-Hyun hugged her arms around herself, more for comfort than warmth.
"You know," she said suddenly, "we should probably take a couple fake dating photos. For evidence."
"No face pictures," he reminded her.
"I know. Just… hands or something."
His eyebrow lifted. "Hands?"
She held hers up. "Like holding hands. From behind. Only our hands show."
He stared at her hand like it was some unfamiliar object.
"You want to hold my hand."
"I don't want to," she corrected quickly. "It's for the plan."
"Right. The plan." He hesitated. "Fine."
She stepped beside him. Their hands brushed once.
Twice.
The third time, he intertwined their fingers gently, as if giving her space to pull away if she wanted.
She didn't.
The contact sent a soft warmth through her chest—dangerous warmth—yet she didn't let go.
Ji-Hyun lifted the phone with her free hand and snapped a picture.
The angle was perfect: the river, their intertwined hands, sunlight glinting off the water.
Proof.
For their exes.
For the deal.
So why did it feel… too intimate?
Seon-woo didn't speak for a long moment.
When he finally did, his voice was quieter.
"This is going to get complicated."
Ji-Hyun looked up at him. "Why?"
His thumb brushed the back of her hand—barely there but enough to send heat to her face.
"Because," he said calmly, "your rules are already breaking."
That night, Ji-Hyun couldn't sleep.
She tossed and turned, replaying everything: the café, the riverside, the way he looked at her when he listed his rules, the way their hands felt together.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Seon-woo: Delete it if you want, but today was… okay.
Ji-Hyun stared at her screen, heart pounding harder than it should.
She typed back before thinking.
Ji-Hyun: It was more than okay.
She froze.
Then deleted the message immediately.
No. Too honest. Too dangerous.
She corrected it:
Ji-Hyun:
Yeah. It was fine.
Her finger hovered before hitting send.
It delivered instantly.
She tossed her phone aside and buried her face into her pillow.
"Rule 1," she whispered to herself.
"No falling in love."
But her chest felt warm.
And she already knew—