The rooftop door hadn't even closed behind Han Soo-ah when silence fell again.
Only the city hummed below, unaware that the two people standing above it had just stepped over an invisible line.
Yoon Ha-rin exhaled slowly. "That was… awkward."
Kang Jae-hyun smiled. "She has a talent for that."
Ha-rin laughed — soft, nervous, real. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"I'm enjoying you getting flustered."
He leaned against the railing, that teasing glint back in his eyes. "I didn't know you could blush this easily."
She crossed her arms. "It's called a normal human reaction."
"Then I must've been abnormal for years," he said, stepping closer. "Because until last night, I'd forgotten how this felt."
Her heart skipped. "This?"
"Being alive."
---
Wind brushed past them, carrying the faintest trace of jasmine from her hair.
He caught it — that familiar scent that haunted every dream — and something inside him unraveled.
"You know," he said quietly, "I used to think emotions were distractions. But you… you make them sound like symphonies."
Ha-rin's lips curved. "That's the cheesiest thing you've ever said."
"Then you bring out my worst lines."
"And you still manage to say them like you mean it."
He laughed — that low, unguarded sound that always made her chest ache in the best way.
The sound of Jae-hyun when he wasn't Director Kang — just the boy she hadn't realized she'd missed all these years.
---
The laughter faded into something softer.
He took a step closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against the cool evening air.
"Ha-rin," he said, her name breaking gently in his voice.
"If I do this again… tell me to stop."
She didn't.
This time the kiss came with laughter still caught between them — light, tender, alive.
It wasn't desperation; it was discovery.
The kind of closeness that made the night wind forget how to move.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched, both smiling, both a little dazed.
"I think you're bad for my productivity," she whispered.
"Good," he murmured back. "Maybe I'll finally stop thinking in spreadsheets."
She laughed again — and that sound melted the last bit of distance between them.
---
Downstairs, Han Soo-ah's heels clicked through the corridor, her smile polished but tight.
She'd seen enough to know she'd lost the quiet game she thought she was winning.
But inside that rooftop world of rain-washed light and late laughter, none of that mattered yet.
For now, there was only the soft rhythm of two heartbeats learning how to share the same sky.