The afternoon sun stretched lazily across the sky, its golden rays shimmering against the calm waters of the Han River. The gentle rustling of leaves accompanied the distant hum of the city, but here, in this quiet space, the world seemed softer. Birds flitted through the trees, their chirping adding a melody to the tranquil moment.

Namra and Sooheon walked side by side, their fingers loosely intertwined. The warmth of his hand against hers felt natural, familiar, like something that had always been meant to be. They weren’t in a hurry, just walking with no particular destination in mind, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Did you know,” Sooheon began, his tone light, “that pigeons are basically just city rats with wings?”

Namra turned to him with an amused expression. “That’s… quite a romantic observation.”

“I’m just saying,” Sooheon continued, nodding toward a cluster of birds pecking at the ground. “People love feeding them, but if you think about it, they’d probably survive just fine without the bread. They’re survivors.”

Namra tilted her head slightly, watching the birds for a moment before looking back at him. “Are you saying we’re like pigeons?”

Sooheon smirked. “I mean… we do keep surviving, don’t we?”

Namra chuckled softly, squeezing his hand just a little. “I’d rather be a hawk or something.”

“A hawk?” Sooheon raised an eyebrow. “Majestic. Deadly. Fierce. I can see it.”

She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Hm…” Sooheon pretended to think. “A wolf, maybe? Strong, protective, roams alone but loyal when it matters.”

Namra hummed in agreement. “Yeah… I can see that.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, the breeze cool against their skin. The city was moving around them, but here, by the river, it felt like they were in their own little world.

Eventually, they both slowed to a stop near the railing, where the view stretched wide before them. The water reflected the sky in rippling shades of blue and gold, and the bridge in the distance framed the moment perfectly.

Sooheon turned toward her, his eyes warm but searching. “Namra.”

She met his gaze, tilting her head slightly as she waited for him to continue.

“Do you still not want to be fixed?” he asked.

Namra’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the question. But then, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She took a deep breath, looking out at the water before turning back to him. “You know… I used to think people were like broken vases,” she started, her voice gentle. “When something cracked, they were never the same again. You could glue the pieces back together, but the fractures would always be visible. The damage would always be there.”

Sooheon listened, his expression unreadable but intent.

Namra continued, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “But then I learned about kintsugi.”

His brows lifted slightly in curiosity.

“It’s an old Japanese art,” she explained. “When pottery breaks, instead of throwing it away or trying to hide the cracks, they fill them with gold. The broken parts aren’t flaws anymore—they’re part of the history, part of what makes it beautiful. It’s stronger, more unique, because of the breaks.”

She looked up at him, her eyes soft yet unwavering. “I used to think I was just a broken vase. That no matter what, I’d never be whole again. But then you came along.”

Sooheon’s breath hitched slightly, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“You didn’t try to fix me,” Namra said. “You didn’t force me to be something I wasn’t. You just stayed. You listened. And somehow… I started healing without even realizing it.”

She lifted their joined hands slightly. “So no, Sooheon. I don’t think I need to be fixed anymore.” A small, genuine smile played on her lips. “I think I’m already fixed. You filled my cracks with gold, even when I didn’t think it was possible.”

For a moment, Sooheon just stared at her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, slowly, a small, lopsided smile formed on his lips.

“That has to be the most poetic way someone has ever told me I’m annoying but persistent.”

Namra laughed, the sound light and free. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’m serious too.”

His free hand reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You were never broken, Namra. Maybe a little lost, a little bruised, but never broken. You just needed someone to remind you of that.”

Namra felt something in her chest tighten, an overwhelming warmth spreading through her. She looked into his eyes, seeing not just the boy she had known for years, but the person who had stood by her, who had never wavered, even when she had tried to push him away.

Sooheon leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d do it all over again if it meant standing here with you right now.”

Namra’s throat felt tight, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she lifted her other hand, resting it lightly against his cheek.

“You already have,” she murmured.

The breeze carried their quiet laughter as they stood there, close, with the city moving around them but never touching them.

Sooheon exhaled, his forehead resting lightly against hers for just a second before he pulled away with a grin. “Come on. Let’s keep walking. I don’t want to share my deep and meaningful moment with a bunch of pigeons.”

Namra chuckled, rolling her eyes but letting him pull her along. “Fine, but you’re paying for snacks.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, they kept moving forward, side by side, hand in hand—two people who had once been lost, now finding their way together.

---

The dim glow of the kitchen lights cast a warm hue over the marble counters, the silence of the house making the space feel even more intimate. Outside, the city twinkled beyond the tall windows, but inside, it was just the two of them—Namra and Sooheon.

His father was away in Japan for a business trip, not that it made much difference. Sooheon was used to the emptiness of this house, the way the space always felt too big, too quiet. But tonight was different. Tonight, Namra was here.

She leaned against the counter, watching as he fumbled with a knife, trying to slice vegetables with a level of concentration that was almost comical. “You’re holding it wrong,” she remarked, her voice light with amusement.

Sooheon huffed, glaring down at the uneven slices of carrots. “I watched a video, okay? This was supposed to be easy.”

Namra shook her head and stepped closer, placing her hand over his to adjust his grip. “Like this.”

Sooheon stilled for a moment, the warmth of her touch sending a subtle shiver up his arm. He looked at her, but she was focused on the knife, guiding his movements with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured.

Namra smirked slightly. “Am I?”

“Yep. I guess you're the one in charge of cooking then.” Sooheon said with a pleasing smile.

Namra gave him a pointed look. “Did you or did you not survive mostly on takeout until recently?”

“…Okay, fair.”

She let go of his hand, watching as he tried again, this time cutting with more confidence. “See? Not that hard.”

Sooheon glanced at her, a grin tugging at his lips. “I don’t know… having you help might’ve made it easier.”

Namra rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. The kitchen felt smaller with their proximity, the air charged with something quiet but undeniable.

After a while, Sooheon moved to the stove, stirring the ingredients in the pan. He was concentrating again, his brows furrowed in determination, and Namra found herself watching him, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Something on my face?” Sooheon asked, catching her staring.

Namra leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Just surprised. You’re actually not burning anything.”

Sooheon scoffed. “Wow. The faith you have in me is inspiring.”

Namra chuckled, and before she could respond, Sooheon reached out and wiped a bit of flour off her cheek with his thumb. His touch lingered for a second too long, his eyes searching hers.

She didn’t move away.

The sound of the sizzling pan faded into the background as Sooheon took a small step closer, his fingers ghosting over her skin. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

Namra didn’t blush, didn’t shy away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. “You just realized?”

Sooheon smirked, leaning in just a fraction more. “No,” he admitted. “Just felt like reminding you.”

The warmth between them grew, slow and steady like the simmering food behind him. But before either of them could close the distance, the pan let out a loud hiss, and Sooheon jerked back with a startled curse.

Namra burst into laughter, shaking her head as she turned off the heat. “Smooth, Ji Sooheon. Very smooth.”

Sooheon groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was so close to a movie moment.”

Namra handed him a plate, still smiling. “Maybe next time.”

Sooheon took it, smirking as he looked at her. “You’ll have to come over again, then.”

Namra met his gaze, her expression soft but certain. “Yeah. I think I will.”