By the third day of their strange, accidental, too-easy fake relationship, Ji-Hyun had begun noticing tiny things she shouldn't be noticing.
Like how Seon-Woo always texted first in the morning, even though he pretended not to care.
Like how he never used emojis but somehow still sounded soft.
Like how every time she thought of checking her phone, she expected a message from him.
And she hated that.
This was supposed to be a deal.
A tactic.
A one-month plan to make their exes realize they'd messed up.
Not… this.
Her phone buzzed again.
Seon-Woo:
You free after 5? We need another meeting. Proof updates.
Ji-Hyun sighed. Proof updates.
He made it sound like they were co-managers of a marketing project rather than two emotionally damaged people pretending to be in love.
Still, her fingers typed back faster than she expected.
Ji-Hyun:
Yeah. Where?
Seon-Woo:
The riverfront. Less crowded. Fewer eyes.
She stared at his second message.
Fewer eyes?
Since when did he care about privacy?
But then she remembered his ex.
The girl who broke him.
The way his eyes looked when he mentioned her on the balcony.
There was always a reason behind the way people guarded themselves.
The Riverfront — 5:17 p.m.
The sky was a soft, washed-out orange when Ji-Hyun reached the riverfront. The air had that slight evening chill, the kind that slipped into your sleeves and made everything feel quieter.
She spotted him leaning against the railing, hands in the pockets of his jacket, staring at the water like it was talking back.
"You're early," she said.
He didn't look away from the river. "You're late."
Ji-Hyun huffed. "It's literally 5:17."
He tilted his head slightly, finally meeting her eyes. "Exactly. Late."
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched, and for some reason that made her cheeks warm.
"You texted me like it was urgent," she said, standing beside him.
"It is," he replied simply.
"What? Another photo? Another hand-holding session?"
"Something like that."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag.
Ji-Hyun blinked. "What's… that?"
He held it out without explanation.
She took it and peeked inside.
A cream bread bun.
Her favorite.
She looked up. "How did you—"
"You mentioned it on the first night," he said, shoulders lifting slightly. "When we walked home. You said you always bought one after work."
Ji-Hyun froze.
She barely remembered that.
It was a small, offhand comment, something she said while rambling about how stressful her job was. She didn't expect him to be listening.
"Did you buy one for yourself too?" she asked quietly.
"No."
Her brows lifted. "Then why did you—"
"Because you like it."
He said it as if it was obvious.
She didn't know what to say to that.
It wasn't romantic.
It wasn't supposed to be.
But it was thoughtful.
Too thoughtful.
They Walk
The river was calm, reflecting the colors of the evening sky. They walked slowly, side by side. Not touching. Not talking much. But it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt… natural.
"So," Ji-Hyun said after a minute, "what's the real reason you asked me here?"
"You posted yesterday," he said. "It's my turn today."
"Ah. The schedule."
She nodded. "What are we posting?"
He stopped walking and looked at her.
"A photo."
"Well, yeah—what kind?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he took a step closer, slowly, watching her reaction the entire time. Ji-Hyun felt her pulse jump.
"Hold still," he murmured.
Before she could ask why, he reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
It wasn't a flirt.
It wasn't an act.
It wasn't anything dramatic.
It was soft.
Quiet.
Casual in the most intimate way.
And her breath caught.
"W-What are you—"
"Your hair was in your face," he said, stepping back just enough. "The photo would look weird."
"The p-photo?"
He pulled out his phone and showed her the preview.
It was her—
facing the river, profile soft, sunset framing her, his hand mid-motion brushing her hair away.
No faces.
Just silhouettes and angles.
But it screamed closeness.
"You took that without asking?" she demanded, flustered.
"You weren't supposed to pose," he said. "It needed to look natural."
"And what's the caption?"
"Doesn't need one," he said. "The picture says enough."
She blinked. Hard.
This man. This gloomy, quiet, emotionally distant man…
was way too good at fake dating.
Almost suspiciously good.
"You sure this is just a deal for you?" she said before she could stop herself.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked out at the river again.
"Ask me again at the end of the month," he said softly.
Her breath hitched.
That wasn't the answer she expected.
Not at all.
A Bench, A Confession (Kind Of)
They sat on a bench overlooking the water. People walked by in the distance, but it felt like they were in a quiet bubble of their own.
Ji-Hyun unwrapped the cream bread slowly, more for something to do than because she was hungry.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For this."
He shrugged. "It's just bread."
"It's not just bread."
He didn't respond.
So she took a small breath and continued.
"You remember everything, don't you? Even the things people don't think are important."
Seon-Woo stayed silent, jaw tightening. He looked like he wanted to deny it but couldn't.
"That's why getting hurt hits you harder," she said quietly.
He froze, eyes locked on the river.
Ji-Hyun immediately regretted it. "Sorry… I didn't mean to—"
"You're right," he whispered.
She blinked.
"It's stupid," he said. "Caring this much. Noticing this much. People don't… stay long enough to care back."
Ji-Hyun's chest tightened.
Without thinking, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder.
"I'm here," she said.
He looked at her then. Really looked.
"You're here for the deal."
"And maybe a little for you too," she said before she could chicken out.
His eyes softened—barely, but undeniably.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't look so alone anymore.
Night Falls
By the time they stood to leave, the sky was dark and the city lights reflected in the river like scattered stars.
Seon-Woo walked her to the bus stop, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched. He looked calmer than he did on the balcony that first night. Less guarded. Less cold.
Her bus pulled up.
"Tomorrow?" she asked.
"If you want."
She hesitated.
It wasn't part of the plan.
It wasn't scheduled.
But she found herself smiling.
"I want."
Seon-Woo looked at her for a long moment.
"Good," he said quietly.
Ji-Hyun stepped onto the bus, heart doing something it definitely should not be doing in week one of a fake relationship.
As the doors closed, her phone buzzed.
Seon-Woo:
By the way… I posted the photo.
She swallowed, opening the app.
And there it was.
A sunset.
A girl.
A quiet gesture.
A boy whose h
and lingered just a little too close.
Caption:
"Some people make the evening feel lighter."
Ji-Hyun's heart wasn't supposed to skip a beat.
But it did.
And it terrified her.
And thrilled her.
And broke one of her rules just a little.
No falling in love.