I don't feel like moving.
At all.
My cheek still stings a little.
Not because it hurt that much—
but because it happened.
So I'm sitting on my bed.
Blank stare.
Chocolate forgotten beside me.
Mood: permanently gone.
Then the door bursts open.
Too energetic for my current emotional state.
Ara walks in first.
"…you're still sulking?" she asks immediately.
I don't look up.
"…I'm resting emotionally."
"That's not a thing," she says.
"It is now."
Behind her—
Niran appears.
Leaning like he owns the doorway.
"…you look useless," he says.
I glance at him.
"…thank you."
Ara sighs.
"…okay, we're fixing this."
I blink.
"…I didn't ask to be fixed."
"No one ever does," she replies.
And then—
chaos begins.
Ara grabs my arm.
"Stand up."
"No."
Niran grabs my other arm.
"Stand up."
"I said no."
They both pull.
I don't move.
"…this is abuse," I mutter.
"It's motivation," Ara corrects.
Niran adds, "Same thing."
Next thing I know—
I'm on my feet.
Barely.
They start walking me around the room like I'm a malfunctioning statue.
Ara suddenly claps.
"Okay. Dancing time."
I freeze.
"…what?"
Niran looks disgusted.
"…absolutely not."
"YES," Ara says.
And somehow—
it happens anyway.
Ara is trying to make me spin.
Niran is reluctantly stepping side to side like he's being forced into humiliation.
I'm just standing there in the middle like a confused main character.
"…this is illegal," I say.
"No it's not," Ara replies while laughing.
Niran mutters, "…I hate this house."
Ara suddenly starts humming.
Then singing.
Badly.
Very badly.
"Min-Jun, smileeeeee~"
"I am smiling internally."
"That doesn't count!"
I try not to laugh.
I really do.
But then Niran actually attempts a dramatic spin and almost falls.
I lose it.
"…you're terrible at this," I say, laughing.
Niran straightens immediately.
"I am not designed for human entertainment."
Ara bursts out laughing.
"That's literally your whole personality right now!"
And just like that—
my mood starts cracking.
Not fully fixed.
But… lighter.
Then my phone buzzes.
Once.
Then again.
Ara instantly reacts.
"OHH TEXT!"
She grabs it before I can.
"HEY—"
Too late.
She's already reading.
Niran leans in slightly.
"…who is it."
Ara squints.
"…Lalita."
My brain pauses.
"…give it back."
"No," she says immediately.
She reads aloud.
"this is just for you :)"
Then a photo loads.
A small cute image.
Something simple.
Something thoughtful.
Something that shouldn't hit that hard—
but does.
I blink.
Once.
Then—
I smile.
Small.
Real.
Unplanned.
"…oh," I say quietly.
Ara freezes.
"…WAIT. YOU SMILED."
Niran freezes too.
"…what."
Ara looks offended.
"We did ALL THAT and THIS is what makes him smile?!"
I shrug slightly.
"…it's nice."
Niran leans closer.
"…what did she send?"
Ara shows him.
His expression immediately shifts.
"…that's it?"
I nod.
"…that's it."
He exhales sharply.
"…ridiculous."
But he doesn't look angry.
Just… annoyed in a different way.
Ara suddenly leans on my left side.
Niran immediately leans on my right.
Both of them watching my phone like it's stolen property.
"Stop hovering," I mutter.
"No," they both say at the same time.
Ara starts reading the chat now.
Niran pretends not to care but absolutely listens.
I feel them both crowding me.
Warm.
Annoying.
Comfortable in a way I refuse to admit.
Ara laughs again.
"Oh my god she wrote 'just for you' like it's a secret mission."
Niran scoffs.
"…dramatic."
"She's cute," Ara says.
"…irritating," Niran replies.
"You're jealous," she teases.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
I sigh.
"…can I have my phone back?"
"No," they both say again.
And for once—
I don't feel like pulling away.
Because somehow—
between the laughing
and the teasing
and the arguing
and Niran pretending he isn't curious
and Ara absolutely exposing everything—
it feels less like chaos…
and more like I'm not alone in it
I don't even realize how hungry I am until I'm already in the kitchen.
Standing there.
Blank.
Staring at ingredients like they might explain themselves.
"…I should've just eaten chocolate," I mutter.
Behind me—
"…you're going to survive on sugar and bad decisions," Niran says.
"I have survived worse."
"That's not comforting."
I pick up a pan.
Pause.
Put it down again.
Pick it up again.
"…this feels illegal," I say.
"It's not."
"It feels like it."
Niran sighs.
"…move."
He steps closer behind me.
Not touching at first.
Just there.
Then his hand lightly adjusts mine on the counter.
Guiding.
"…like this," he says quietly.
I nod.
"…I knew that."
"You didn't."
"I emotionally knew that."
"That's not how cooking works."
"It is for me."
The kitchen slowly becomes chaos anyway.
Something sizzles too loudly.
I almost drop a spoon.
Niran catches it before it hits the floor.
"…you're useless," he mutters.
"I'm trying."
"That's your problem."
And yet—
there's something almost… light about it.
Like arguing is normal.
Like nothing outside this kitchen exists.
Then—
the air changes.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… still.
I pause mid-stir.
Niran's hand tightens slightly on my wrist.
Not warning.
Just… aware.
"…someone's here," he murmurs.
I blink.
"…Ara?"
"No."
Silence.
Then—
the door opens.
I freeze.
Half-turned.
Hand still hovering over the pan.
Niran is right behind me now.
Closer.
Not visible fully.
Just enough presence that I feel steadier.
His hand lightly rests near my arm.
Calming.
Not hiding.
Just anchoring.
Mrs. Lee steps in.
She stops immediately.
Her eyes move from the kitchen mess—
to me—
to the pan—
to the faint stillness behind me she doesn't fully understand.
"…you're cooking," she says softly.
I blink once.
"…yes."
A pause.
I realize I'm still holding the spoon awkwardly mid-air.
I slowly lower it.
"…I mean—yes."
Niran's grip shifts slightly like he's holding back a sigh.
Mrs. Lee walks in more slowly now.
Not cold.
Not sharp like before.
Just… careful.
"…I came to apologize," she says.
I don't respond right away.
My fingers tighten slightly on the counter.
Niran's presence steadies again behind me.
"…for earlier," she adds quietly. "For slapping you."
Silence.
I look at her.
Then nod.
"…okay."
It comes out simple.
Not angry.
Not warm.
Just honest.
Her eyes soften a little.
Then she looks around.
"…what are you making?"
I hesitate.
"…I don't know yet."
That makes her exhale something close to a laugh.
Tired.
Not amused.
Just human.
She steps closer.
Looks at the pan.
Then at me again.
"…you used to like jjajangmyeon," she says suddenly.
I blink.
"…I still do."
A small pause.
"…I remembered," she adds quietly.
That hits differently.
I don't know why.
It just does.
Behind me—
Niran shifts slightly.
I feel him lean in just a bit.
Not possessive.
Just present.
Calm.
Mrs. Lee looks between the stove and me.
"…I can help," she offers.
I hesitate.
Then nod slightly.
"…okay."
It becomes quieter after that.
Less tense.
More… careful.
Like everyone is trying not to break something fragile.
At one point—
she laughs softly.
I think I said something wrong about cooking.
Or right.
I don't know.
But it sounds… lighter.
I finally sit for a moment when the food is ready.
Jjajangmyeon.
Simple.
Warm.
Familiar in a way I didn't expect to feel today.
Mrs. Lee takes a bite.
Pauses.
"…it's good," she says.
I blink.
"…I made it."
A beat.
"…with help," I add.
Her eyes flick slightly behind me again.
Like she notices something she can't explain.
But she doesn't push it.
Just nods.
"…with help," she repeats.
She stands after a while.
Fixes her coat.
"…I should go."
I nod.
"…okay."
A pause.
Then softer—
"…thank you."
She looks at me.
For a moment longer than usual.
Then turns.
"…eat properly," she says.
And leaves.
The door closes.
Silence returns.
But not the heavy kind.
The soft kind.
I sit there.
Looking at the bowl.
Not eating yet.
Just… thinking.
Then—
"…you were quiet," I say.
Behind me—
Niran leans slightly closer.
"…you were fine," he replies.
I exhale.
"…that's rare."
"…don't get used to it."
I finally take a bite.
Warm.
Comforting.
Then I feel it—
lightly.
A small presence near my shoulder.
Not heavy.
Not cold.
Just there.
I don't turn.
"…you still here?" I ask quietly.
A pause.
Then—
"…obviously," he says.
I almost smile.
Almost.
"…good," I whisper.
And for once—
the kitchen doesn't feel empty.