He leaned in a little, smiling at her reaction.
"The moment I saw you, something strange stirred inside me. And when I agreed to make you ramen…" He paused, smiling to himself. "You smiled."
He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Damn. That smile alone made my heart skip."
She stared at him with a flat expression, unimpressed by his cinematic delivery.
He laughed. "Too dramatic?"
"Very," she replied.
He laughed again, unoffended. "You won't understand it now. But when you fall in love, someday… You will."
And this time, her heart responded suddenly, an unfamiliar flutter.
His smile softened, losing its playfulness. "That night, watching you eat.... watching the tiredness leave your face as you get full. Something rang inside me. Maybe you were the one. And I felt the exact same comfort and peace that I felt with that faceless imaginary person."
He smiled sheepishly. "You know what? That night I couldn't sleep at all. My heart didn't calm down. I felt butterflies everywhere as I imagined your face. You literally didn't let me sleep."
She pressed her lip, trying to hold back her smile.
He noticed and chuckled. "It's true. And then… I went to Omma. In the middle of the night."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"And I told her everything."
Her smile widened, uncontrollable. "And what if you never happened to meet me again after that night?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.
He smiled without hesitation. "I would have met you," he said simply. "Because that night, you told me you worked nearby. So I knew you were somewhere close. I was sure we'd cross paths again."
Her eyes widened. "You sound very confident."
He chuckled. "Yes. And then I did meet you again. At that wedding," he continued, laughing. "I didn't expect to see you there. I was bored out of my mind… and then I spotted you sitting in one corner, with a dead blank face. Like you didn't want to be there either."
She glared at him.
He laughed. "Then you walked toward the food section… and I followed you. The rest, you already know."
She squinted her eyes at him, thoughtful.
He tilted his head, chuckling. "What are you thinking now?"
"Suppose… what if I was already taken? Or married? Or our families never arranged this?" she asked.
He burst into laughter, leaning back in his chair. "Oh God… are you interrogating me now?"
She frowned at him. "I'm serious," she said, "I'm still not fully convinced by whatever you're saying."
He smiled again, unbothered. "I believe in manifestation, Han Hae-in."
She stared at him.
"And see out of all odds," he continued gently, "we ended up together. What more proof do you need?"
She didn't answer. She just looked into his eyes, her heart reacting in a way she wasn't ready to name yet.
"I'm committed to you for this life, Hae-ina," he said quietly. "And I won't regret it. I'll try my best to keep you happy, to make you feel loved. I'll never hurt you… never break your trust. Ever."
Her heart began to race, loud and unmanageable. She lowered her eyes, lashes trembling, her expression soft yet crowded with things she didn't know how to release.
He noticed it.
"If you ever wonder how much I love you," he continued gently, a small smile touching his lips, "then take all the love in this world… and multiply it by infinity."
He paused, letting the words settle. "That's what I feel for you."
She blinked, still looking down, her chopsticks tracing absent-minded patterns on her plate. Circles. Lines. Anything to keep her hands busy while her chest felt too full.
"Now it's your turn. Tell me about yourself, too," he said, voice quieter now, almost careful.
"Everything. Your childhood. School days. Your best memories… and the bad ones. The moments you were happiest, the ones that hurt the most. Your fears. Your scars. Your weaknesses… your strength, your dreams. And the things you wanted to tell someone, but no one ever listened to. Everything.... every single thing."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes warm, never leaving her face. "I'm here. With you. I'll listen. And I'll love every single thing about you."
She didn't speak.
Her heart pounded faster, emotions crashing back all at once. Her eyes burned, throat tightening as if the words were stuck there, heavy and aching. Her stomach twisted, memories stirring awake where she had carefully buried them.
And he didn't rush her.
He just stayed there, watching her quietly, patiently… waiting for her to speak when she was ready.
"My life isn't interesting," she said slowly. And he didn't interrupt.
"I was always an obedient child. Obeying my parents. Obeying teachers. Elders. Always."A faint smile curved her lips. "I used to think obeying elders was the best thing a daughter could do."
He watched her carefully, noticing how that smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I never refused anything they asked me to do. I never questioned. And because of that…" she let out a soft, almost ironic chuckle, "…I became their favorite child."
He stayed quiet, giving her space.
"Until I started realizing that I'm an individual," she continued. "That I have my own dreams. Thoughts. Priorities. Ambitions. A purpose."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the chopsticks.
"And I realized it very late," she said, laughing faintly at herself. "Too late."
She took a slow breath.
"When I finally understood that… and tried to take steps toward it… my voice was gone."
He frowned slightly, but didn't move.
"It was hard," she said, her tone thinner now. "Because I never used that voice before. I never practiced speaking for myself. For my life. For my dreams."
Her throat tightened, but she continued.
"Yet, I tried. I really tried. But it felt useless. No one listened. No one tried to understand. I had built my entire personality around being the 'good, obedient girl.'"
A bitter softness touched her expression.
"And when I finally wanted to step out of that image… it backfired on me. No one took me seriously. So fighting harder felt pointless… I just…" she exhaled, long and heavy, "… had to live with that same image."
The table felt quieter now.
"And I've been living like that," she continued, her voice trembling now. "But lately… it feels like I can't do it anymore. Because it hurts, it really hurts to silence your inner voice every single day and act according to someone else's wishes."
Ji-hoon felt something twist sharply inside his chest.
He leaned forward slightly, his hand holding hers gently, and asked gently. "Why didn't you give yourself a real chance to chase it?"
She blinked a few times, steadying herself, then looked at him.
"I tried," she said with a small, fragile smile. "I really did. I tried to work toward it. To figure it out. But I realized what I truly wanted very late."
She exhaled slowly.
"By then, responsibilities were already heavy. I had a huge student loan to pay. It took me four years… four years to clear it. Six months ago, I finally got the clearance letter from the bank."
A flicker of pride passed through her eyes, quiet, hard-earned.
"And I thought… maybe now I can finally do what I want. Maybe now I can choose for myself."
Her smile thinned.
"But then marriage pressure started. And then your proposal. Now here I am…" She gave a small, hollow chuckle. "Married."
The pain in her eyes didn't match the lightness in her tone.
Ji-hoon's throat burned. He could see it, the exhaustion, the years of holding back, the fragile hope that had just begun to bloom before being redirected again.
"Hae-in…" he said softly, reaching across the table and taking her hand.
She looked at him, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, forcing a small smile.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
She shook her head and let out another faint laugh. "Don't be. It's not your fault either. It's just… timing. Maybe fate."
Guilt tightened around his chest like a slow, merciless grip. Because somewhere… he knew. He knew he wasn't completely innocent in this story. He could have changed her fate by letting her go earlier.
But his selfish desire to keep her, his fear of losing her, had quietly made sure the marriage went through, even when there had been chances to stop it. Even when she had tried.
He had blocked every possible exit for her. And now she was sitting in front of him, talking about lost timing and crushed dreams.
His throat burned. He wanted to say it. He wanted to confess. But fear wrapped around his courage.
If he admitted the truth, that he had intentionally allowed this marriage to happen despite knowing her hesitation and rejection, she would never forgive him. She might leave. And if she does, he is going to lose her for real. There will be an ugly ending in their chapter.
So he swallowed it. And he chose to bury this truth forever, deeper.
He looked at her again, soft and fragile under the warm light. And tightened his hold just slightly. "Then let fate correct itself," he said gently.
She looked at him.
"Marriage doesn't end your dream," he continued, his voice steady but warm. "It doesn't cancel who you are. If anything… it means you don't have to fight alone anymore."
His brows softened. "So tell me, Hae-in. What do you want to be?" he asked gently. "What's your dream?"