And he is YUAN Mi.
The name stayed in her mind longer than it should have.
Not just a name.
A presence.
A feeling.
Irene blinked, still holding the fork in her hand. The taste of the food lingered on her tongue, warm and comforting, like something she had been missing without knowing it.
She looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Not the cold version she had known.
Not the distant, untouchable version everyone else saw.
Just him.
YUAN Mi.
He shifted slightly under her gaze. "What?"
Irene quickly shook her head. "Nothing."
Then she smiled.
A real smile.
"This is really good."
His fingers paused on the table.
"...Really?"
She nodded immediately. "Yes. I'm not even exaggerating. It's actually really good."
He stared at her for a moment, like he was trying to decide if she was lying.
She wasn't.
They stayed by the counter and watched movies
"I didn't know you could cook," she added, taking another bite.
"I don't cook," he said simply.
She frowned. "But you just did."
He shrugged slightly. "Only when I have to."
Only when I have to.
For some reason, that sentence felt heavier than it sounded.
Silence settled between them again.
Not awkward.
Just quiet.
The movie continued playing in front of them, the light from the screen dancing across his face.
Irene pulled her knees closer to herself on the couch.
"You watch movies often?" she asked.
"No."
She blinked. "Then why now?"
He didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed on the screen.
"...Because you're here."
Her heart skipped.
Just once.
Fast.
Unexpected.
She quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the movie.
"Oh."
Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
They continued eating.
Slowly.
Comfortably.
Minutes passed.
Then Irene spoke again.
"Can I ask you something?"
He didn't look at her, but he nodded slightly.
She hesitated.
Her fingers tightened around the empty fork.
"Why is your relationship with your family… strained?"
The question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
She immediately regretted it.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly. "You don't have to answer. I was just—"
"My father left."
Her words died instantly.
She froze.
He said it so calmly.
So simply.
Like it meant nothing.
But his eyes…
His eyes said everything.
"He left when I was young," Yuan Mi continued. "Didn't say goodbye. Didn't explain. He just… disappeared."
Irene felt her chest tighten.
"Oh…"
She didn't know what else to say.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He shrugged again.
But this time, it wasn't casual.
It was defensive.
"I don't care."
But she knew he did.
You don't talk about something like that if you don't care.
She swallowed.
"I still have my dad," she said softly.
He glanced at her briefly.
"You're lucky."
She smiled.
But it wasn't a happy smile.
"I used to think that too."
He frowned slightly.
She stared at her hands.
"I don't have my mom."
Silence.
Thick.
Unavoidable.
"She died when I was young."
The words felt fragile.
Like glass.
Yuan Mi didn't interrupt.
Didn't speak.
He just listened.
"I don't remember everything about her," Irene continued. "But I remember how she smelled… and how she used to touch my hair… and how she smiled at me like I was her whole world."
Her voice trembled slightly.
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
"Sometimes… I still dream about her."
Her eyes glistened.
"I'll see her. Standing there. Smiling at me. Alive. Like nothing ever happened."
She paused.
"And then I wake up."
Silence.
"And she's gone again."
The room felt smaller.
Quieter.
More honest.
"I miss her," Irene whispered.
She didn't realize when her vision blurred.
She blinked quickly, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it depressing."
Yuan Mi spoke.
For once, his voice wasn't distant.
"...You don't have to apologize."
She looked at him.
Really looked.
His eyes weren't cold anymore.
They were soft.
Understanding.
"I used to think people who had both parents were lucky," he said quietly.
She listened.
"But I realized… having someone doesn't always mean they stay."
Her chest tightened.
"I would've preferred if my father had died," he admitted softly. "At least then… there would've been a reason."
The words hurt.
Not just him.
Her too.
Because she understood.
She nodded slowly.
"I get it."
Their eyes met.
And something passed between them.
Something silent.
Something real.
Not pity.
Not sadness.
Understanding.
They weren't the same.
But they weren't completely different either.
Two broken pieces.
Somehow fitting together.
She smiled softly.
"I think your dad was stupid."
He blinked.
"What?"
She shrugged. "Leaving you."
He stared at her.
Surprised.
"You didn't deserve that."
His chest tightened.
No one had ever said that before.
Not like that.
Not so simply.
Not so honestly.
"...You didn't deserve losing your mom either," he said.
Her smile trembled.
"Yeah," she whispered.
They stayed like that.
Just looking at each other.
No masks.
No distance.
Just two people.
Eventually, Irene stood up.
"I'll help wash the dishes."
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
They moved to the kitchen together.
Their shoulders brushed once.
Then again.
Neither of them moved away immediately.
Water ran softly from the tap.
They worked in quiet harmony.
Passing plates.
Drying them.
Putting them away.
Simple things.
But it felt important.
When they finished, they returned to the couch.
The movie was still playing.
But neither of them were really watching anymore.
Irene leaned back slowly.
Her body felt warm.
Safe.
Her eyes grew heavy.
She didn't realize when her head tilted slightly.
Or when it rested against him.
Yuan Mi froze.
His entire body went still.
He looked down.
She was asleep.
Her breathing slow.
Peaceful.
Trusting.
She didn't pull away.
She didn't hesitate.
She just… stayed.
He stared at her for a long time.
His heart beating quietly.
Not fast.
Not painful.
Just steady.
For the first time in a long time…
He didn't feel alone.
And somehow…
Neither did she.