"Jeon.J, did you bring something for Minji? Now that you're a couple, there should be something matching," Minjo teased Jeon.J and Minji playfully.
"Yes, there should definitely be something matching," Hana added with a smile.
Minji looked at Jeon.J, who was quietly stirring his spoon in the soup bowl.
"There's nothing yet… We'll buy something matching later. I think a keychain would be nice," Minji answered on his behalf.
A small, confused smile appeared on her lips. He had just proposed… and now he was suddenly so quiet?
But she didn't notice that it wasn't just one person who was silent.
Zoya, sitting right across from him, was also completely quiet. Her eyes were fixed on the piece of spring chicken on her plate, as if she wasn't really present there at all.
"Zoya, why did you suddenly become so quiet?" Teahun asked gently, noticing the change in her mood.
"It's nothing… just like that," Zoya replied with a faint smile, but she avoided eye contact.
"Minji… shall we leave?" Zoya said softly. She couldn't sit there any longer.
"Minji, stay tonight. From tomorrow we'll all be busy again," Jeon.J said immediately after Zoya finished speaking, before Minji could even respond. His eyes were on Zoya.
Zoya looked at him—But she couldn't hold his gaze for long.
A strange ache tightened in her chest.
"can't even bear the thought of someone looking at you besides me…"
The thought startled her, and she quickly turned her eyes toward Minji, who was asking Hana something.
"Minji…" Zoya called again.
"You ask Ruhi and Sophia. I'll talk to Zoya," Minji said, finishing her sentence to Hana and turning toward Zoya.
"Come on, don't leave. It's already very late anyway," Teahun said casually.
"Who asked you to stay?" Jeon.J teased him.
Teahun glared at him. "Oh, so you want to spend time with Minji alone?"
Everyone laughed—except two people.
"Don't talk nonsense. I asked everyone to stay, not just Minji," Jeon.J replied firmly.
"Zoya…"Minji was about to say something when Zoya suddenly stood up from her chair.
"Minji, you all stay. Just drop me off at the restaurant. There was a lot of work today. I only came here for dinner… I was supposed to go back anyway…"
She trailed off. Her voice grew softer.
"Just drop me there. I don't want to go outside alone like this."
"Zoya…"
"Zoya, stay… enjoy with us!" Ruhi said with a warm smile.
"Yeah, stay. They've already bored me enough — at least stay for me," Teahun added, teasing her with a mischievous grin.
Zoya looked around the table.
There was nothing wrong here. Staying late with friends, laughing, talking through the night… this wasn't considered improper. It was normal, carefree, harmless.
But for Zoya, it felt different.
She wasn't unhappy. She wasn't judging anyone.
She was just… overwhelmed.
Her chest felt tight every time she glanced at Jeon.J, and Minji.Every joke, every playful glance — her heart couldn't keep up. The laughter floated around the room, but inside, something in her was restless.
It wasn't the night that bothered her. It was the quiet ache in her chest, the ache she couldn't name.
Work was different. Work made sense. Responsibilities didn't confuse her. Feelings didn't make her breathless.
"Minji… you all stay. Just… drop me at the restaurant," she said softly."There's still a lot to do tonight, and I… I'll handle it. I don't want to stay here any longer."
A soft silence followed.
Teahun raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Zoya replied, forcing a calm smile, though inside she was still trembling.
She walked past the table, past the laughter and teasing, and let the night air brush her face. This was her space now — a place where she could gather herself, where her heart could quiet down, even for a little while.
And somewhere deep inside, she knew…Jeon.J would notice.
She walked toward her room, her steps quiet and deliberate.
Jeon.J's eyes followed her the entire way, tracing her movements until she disappeared behind the door.
Her bare feet moved gracefully across the floor.They weren't pale, nor were they dark — just a soft, warm beige that stood out subtly against the deep, shadowed wood beneath them.
Every step seemed to echo, yet somehow gentle, delicate, almost like the rhythm of the night itself.
__________________
She entered the room and hurriedly began slipping on her shoes.
Bamson was sitting there in the middle of the room, and the sight of him made her chest tighten. Tears threatened to spill as she struggled with her shoes. No matter how many times she tried, they wouldn't go on. Frustrated, she threw one aside and buried her face in her hands, crying quietly.
Her tears didn't need words.Her heart was speaking to Allah in a language only He could hear.
She thought of her loved ones whose voices she hadn't heard in six months. She remembered calling, leaving messages, hoping someone would answer, and the hollow silence that followed.
She knew she had come here, they were hurt, that she was hurt too, yet no one seemed to understand.
Her chest tightened. She whispered silently in her heart: I am your daughter… I am your child… I am tired… I need their prayers… I need them to pray for me…
Because she believed.She believed that when a love ones prays — truly prays — Allah listens.Not just listens, but showers love back, seventy times over, with the mercy of the One who knows every hurt, every longing, every tear.
It had only been six months, yet she felt defeated already. She wasn't supposed to "win" anything — she was here to witness the miracle of answered prayers. And yet, her heart ached so much that tears fell uncontrollably.
She looked around the closed room, trembling. "Allah… will my prayers take so long to answer? I'm afraid… afraid that I'll lose hope. I'm afraid…" Her voice trailed off, yet the fear had become pain, and the pain had become restlessness that drove her here.
She spoke to herself, unaware if anyone was watching, yet she felt a strange comfort knowing that someone — someone who mattered more than anyone else — could hear her.
Bamson watched quietly. Zoya moved closer, kneeling before him, leaning in. "Bamson… didn't he read the letter?" she asked again, her voice trembling.
Bamson only looked at her. He had no answer. Or maybe he couldn't give one — some things were meant to remain secret, things that no one else could know.
Slowly, Bamson rose and padded over to the bedside drawer. He lifted his legs and tried to pry the drawer open. Zoya walked towards Bamson to help him. She leaned in, guiding him, and when the drawer opened, there it was — a bracelet.
She freezes, she looks inside the drawer, then
She sat on the corner of the bed and lifted it in her hand. Her tears came again as she traced the black beads. White letters spelled out "MJ," followed by a single pearl, then "MJ" again. The bracelet was made entirely of black beads, with only the letters shining white.
She looked at Bamson. "What does this mean?" she whispered.Bamson didn't respond — not because he didn't want to, but because the answer wasn't his to give.
It meant he hadn't read the letter.If he had, this bracelet wouldn't be here.It would have been kept safe, among the places where he stored his most precious things.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Gently, she placed the bracelet back on the bed, near her bag. She opened a small inner pocket and pulled out another bracelet — identical, black beads, "MJ MJ" shining in white just as she had wanted before. She remembered the love and care with which she had made it.
Before Bamson had returned with the letter, she had placed this bracelet in the opposite pocket of her sweater. One side held the letter, the other the bracelet — a pair of small treasures she had entrusted to him.
She placed both bracelets carefully beside her bag on the sofa.
She closed her bag and calmly put on her shoes. Her face was composed, silent, yet her mind replayed the memories, the ache, the prayer, the love. She dialed Ji-Ho's number on her phone, Bamson watching every move.
She sat down at the corner of the bed, her back facing the room's door, while Bamson stayed on the floor in front of him, unaware that Jeon.J stood there, holding Bamson's food pot, likely to feed him. Yet he hesitated, staying frozen in the doorway.
"Hello, Ji-Ho… can I come to the restaurant?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"But aren't you with your friends?" Ji-Ho replied.
"No… I'm free," she said.
"You should rest…"
"I'm fine, Ji-Ho."
"You're not fine."
"I'll be better there… I'll be okay. You tell me — should I come?"
"Yes, come. Minho is going crazy, along with Park Joon and Mrs. Lee." Ji-Ho said with a laugh, trying to reassure her.
A small smile finally appeared on Zoya's face — her first since the evening began. In that moment, a spark lit inside Jeon.J, who watched silently as he opened the door and stepped out. For a brief instant, her gaze met his — cold, unreadable — and she froze, caught in for a second.
He walked over to Bamson. Zoya rose from the bed, ending her call and lowering the phone from her hand.
Jeon.J now stood directly in front of her. The distance between them was exactly the space that Bamson occupied on the floor below. Zoya couldn't bear to look into his cold eyes; she turned slightly to slip past him.
Bamson…
Jeon.J's deep voice suddenly echoed through the room. Bamson jumped, startled, and stood rigid. Zoya recoiled in fear, pressing herself against the wall. Thankfully, the door was closed; otherwise, everyone outside would have heard. She didn't know what to do, frozen for a moment.
Jeon.J sat down beside Bamson, his gaze still cold but softened by a tender movement — he gently rested his hand on Bamson's head, as if silently apologizing in his own way. Zoya didn't feel it was the right moment to stay. She hurriedly grabbed her phone and bag, and her eyes caught the bracelets beside the bag. She bent to pick them up.
She glanced at Jeon.J, who was now seated calmly beside Bamson, watching him eat. Something in her stirred — an odd feeling that she didn't belong standing there anymore. She adjusted the bracelets in her hands and was about to step out when Jeon.J's voice called her:
"Your scarf is outside. You can take it… and you can leave safely in this coat and cap."
Zoya stopped for a moment.
"I'm comfortable as I am," Zoya replied without hesitation, and stepped out, closing the door behind her.
Jeon.J, hearing her words, clenched his fists tightly, pressing them together as if trying to contain his anger, his expression a mixture of frustration and restraint.
To be continued...
Regards
ZK💌