Ji-Hyun didn't sleep that night.
She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the rooftop again and again—the cold air, the warmth of Seon-woo's breath, the way his hand had trembled slightly when it brushed her cheek. And the kiss.
She tried, genuinely tried, to label it.
"Part of the deal," she whispered to herself.
But her heart didn't agree.
By morning, she looked like she hadn't slept at all. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were tired, but worst of all… the memory still burned too brightly.
She threw a pillow over her face and groaned. "Why did I do that?"
Then her phone vibrated.
Seon-woo
Are you awake?
Ji-Hyun blinked at the screen.
Why is he texting me first thing in the morning??
She hesitated before typing.
Ji-Hyun
Yeah. Why?
The reply was instant, like he'd been waiting.
Seon-woo
We should talk. About yesterday. Rooftop.
Her entire soul left her body.
Ji-Hyun
Nothing to talk about. It was just part of the act.
She pressed send.
The typing bubble appeared… disappeared… appeared again.
Then finally:
Seon-woo
…Right. Sure. Let's meet at the café near your office in an hour.
Why was her heart beating like she just got asked out for real?
The Café Meeting
The café was warm, buzzing softly with morning customers. Ji-Hyun stepped inside, smoothing her hair nervously. Seon-woo was already there, sitting by the window with a black coffee untouched in front of him.
He looked up when she walked in.
And for the first time… he looked nervous.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
She sat across from him, hugging her coat tighter around herself.
A few seconds of silence passed. Not awkward—just heavy. Like both were waiting for the other to mess up first.
Finally, Seon-woo spoke.
"About yesterday," he said quietly, "I didn't want you to think I was—taking advantage of you."
Ji-Hyun blinked. "I know you weren't."
"I just… lost control for a second."
Her heart flipped. "Same."
His eyes widened slightly, like he didn't expect her to admit that. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off quickly.
"But it doesn't mean anything," she said. "It can't. We agreed, remember? No falling in love."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last part.
If he noticed, he didn't show it.
"Right," he said. "Of course."
He took a sip of his coffee, but his hands were wrapped too tightly around the cup. Ji-Hyun wondered if the heat was burning him, but he didn't let go.
"We should focus," she said, forcing her voice steady. "We're supposed to make our exes regret losing us. One month. That's it."
"Yeah," he said, still staring at his coffee. "One month."
She swallowed hard.
So why did his voice sound like it was breaking a little?
"Anyway," she said, reaching for distraction. "My ex texted me last night."
Seon-woo's head snapped up. "What did he say?"
"That he saw one of our Instagram posts. He said… I look happy."
Seon-woo's jaw clenched. "Good. He should regret."
"What about you?" she asked. "Any reaction from your ex?"
He let out a breath. "She watched every story I posted. Even the one where we were at the street market."
Ji-Hyun grinned despite herself. "So it's working."
"Seems like it."
Their eyes met.
And suddenly the whole café felt too quiet, like the world was waiting to see what would happen next.
Ji-Hyun's voice softened. "We just have to stay focused, okay? No… confusion. No lines crossed."
But as she said it, she could see the flash of disappointment in Seon-woo's eyes.
It was small. Subtle. But real.
He looked away quickly.
"Yeah. No lines crossed."
The Pretend Date That Didn't Feel Pretend
They walked out of the café together, neither wanting to say goodbye yet.
"What now?" she asked.
Seon-woo shoved his hands into his pockets. "We need new photos. Couple stuff. Something that'll get attention."
Ji-Hyun folded her arms, skeptical. "Like what?"
"Like…" He thought for a second. "Matching outfits?"
She stared at him. "You'd wear matching outfits?"
"I'd rather jump off a bridge," he said immediately.
She laughed. Loudly. "Then why suggest it?"
"Because other people like that crap," he muttered. "We just need pictures that look… real."
Real.
The word felt loaded.
Ji-Hyun exhaled. "Okay. What do you want to do?"
A slow, almost shy smile tugged on his lips.
"Let's go to the arcade."
She blinked. "The arcade?"
He shrugged. "My ex hates anything childish. She always said I was immature for liking games."
Ji-Hyun smiled. "So you want her to know you're having fun without her."
"And with someone who doesn't judge me for it," he said softly.
She felt warmth bloom in her chest.
"Okay," she said. "Arcade date. Let's go."
Chaos and Chemistry
The arcade was bright, loud, chaotic—in the best way.
Ji-Hyun hadn't been to one in years. But the moment they walked in, she felt something like… freedom.
Seon-woo led the way, already grabbing tokens.
"Come on," he said, eyes sparkling with childlike excitement she had never seen in him. "You're going down in air hockey."
"Please," she scoffed. "I'll destroy you."
Five minutes later, they were screaming over the table, laughing like idiots, knocking the puck off the board at least seven times.
"STOP CHEATING!" Ji-Hyun yelled as Seon-woo scored again.
"I'm not cheating. You're just bad," he smirked.
After air hockey came basketball, then racing games, then a claw machine that absolutely hated them both.
But the moment that mattered came unexpectedly.
Ji-Hyun was trying (and failing) to shoot hoops when Seon-woo stepped behind her, placing his hands on hers.
"Your aim is terrible," he murmured near her ear.
She froze.
He guided her arms gently. "Relax your shoulders. Like this."
His voice.
His closeness.
The warmth of his hands.
Ji-Hyun's heartbeat was so loud she thought the arcade music might pause just to mock her.
She threw the ball.
It went in.
She spun around. "I DID IT!"
Seon-woo grinned. "No thanks to you."
"Excuse me??"
And then… click.
A teenager passing by snapped a picture of them on accident while taking a photo of her friends—but the flash caught them perfectly.
Seon-woo looked at the photo.
Ji-Hyun looked at the photo.
They looked… like a real couple.
Too real.
"Should we post it?" he asked quietly.
Her voice came out softer than she intended. "Yeah. Post it."
A Different Kind of Silence
When they stepped out of the arcade into the chilly evening air, something had changed. The laughter faded, leaving behind an unfamiliar tension—not uncomfortable, just… charged.
Ji-Hyun crossed her arms. "Today was fun."
"Yeah," Seon-woo said. "It was."
Another silence settled between them.
One that felt dangerously close to crossing a line.
He cleared his throat. "We should head back."
"Yeah."
They walked slowly, neither speaking, neither wanting the day to end.
But just before they parted ways, Seon-woo spoke.
"Ji-Hyun."
She turned. "Yeah?"
His expression was unreadable.
"Are we still pretending?"
Her breath hitched.
"…Yeah," she whispered. "We have to."
Seon-woo nodded, but his eyes told another story entirely.
"Right. Just pretending."
He turned and walked away before she could say anything else.
Ji-Hyun stood there, heart aching in a way she didn't want to admit, watching his figure fade into the night.
The problem wasn't the kiss anymore.
The problem was everything after it.
And for the first time…
she wasn't sure the rule of no falling in love was going to survive much longer.