I was curled into Han's side, my head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around me. His fingers traced absent patterns on my sleeve, and every so often, he'd press a kiss to the top of my head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was quiet. Safe. The kind of quiet that made you forget there was a world outside the two of us.

His body went rigid beneath me. The hand on my sleeve froze, fingers still pressed against the fabric.

I felt the shift before I saw it—the way his breathing changed, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. His phone was in his other hand, screen glowing in the dim light, and his eyes were locked on it with an intensity that made my stomach drop.

Jisung?

He didn't answer.

His face had gone pale. Not the kind of pale you get from a scare—the kind that comes when the ground beneath you suddenly disappears.

His thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.