The moment I saw her, everything else faded.
"Sofia…?"
My voice came out softer than I expected, almost breaking midway, as if I was afraid she would disappear the second I said her name out loud. But she didn't. She stood there, just a few steps away from me, her eyes wide, her breathing uneven, her presence grounding in a way nothing else had been since I woke up in this unfamiliar world.
"Ava…?"
And that was enough.
We didn't think. We didn't question. We just moved.
The distance between us vanished in seconds as I wrapped my arms tightly around her, holding on as if letting go would shatter whatever fragile reality we were standing in. Her grip around me tightened just as much, her fingers clutching onto my back, and for the first time since I woke up, I felt something close to relief.
"You're here…" I whispered against her shoulder.
"I thought I was alone," she murmured, her voice trembling just enough to mirror my own thoughts.
We slowly pulled away, but not completely, our hands still holding onto each other like an anchor. There were a thousand questions in my mind, and I could see the same storm in her eyes.
"This isn't real… right?" I asked quietly.
Her silence gave me the answer.
And somehow, that made everything worse.
We didn't say much after that. There was no need. The understanding between us was enough. Without speaking, we moved toward the kitchen, as if we both needed something normal—something ordinary—to hold onto, even if everything else had changed.
The kitchen was quiet, almost too quiet. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting soft reflections over the marble counters. It looked warm, inviting even—but the stillness felt unsettling, like it was waiting for something.
Sofia leaned against the counter beside me, her fingers tracing the edge absentmindedly, while I stood near the island, trying to slow down my racing thoughts.
"We need to figure this out," she said softly.
"I know," I replied, though my voice lacked conviction.
Because how do you figure out something like this?
How do you explain waking up in someone else's life… someone else's body?
I let out a quiet breath, my gaze drifting downward as I tried to gather my thoughts, but before I could say anything else—
I felt it.
That shift in the air.
Subtle.
But undeniable.
My body stiffened instantly.
I didn't need to turn around.
I knew.
He was here.
Footsteps echoed softly behind me, slow and unhurried, each one measured as if he wasn't just walking—but approaching with intent.
And then—
"Running away without saying anything?"
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
But there was something beneath it that made my breath hitch.
I turned slowly.
Kang Minjae stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his gaze fixed directly on me. Not curious. Not confused. Just… focused.
Like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I became painfully aware of the distance between us—and how quickly it felt like it could disappear.
"I wasn't running," I said quietly, though even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Not in anger.
But in observation.
And then he moved.
Slow steps.
Unrushed.
But deliberate.
Each step closing the space between us until he stood right in front of me.
Too close.
My breath caught as I instinctively took a small step back.
A mistake.
Because before I could create any real distance, his hand reached out and wrapped around my wrist, stopping me mid-step.
Firm.
Unyielding.
Not painful.
But enough to make my heart skip.
"You didn't tell me where you were going," he said, his voice lower now, quieter.
It wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
I swallowed hard. "I just came to the kitchen."
His grip didn't loosen.
Instead, his thumb brushed lightly against my wrist, almost absentmindedly, but the gesture sent a strange warmth through my skin that I didn't understand.
"You don't leave like that," he continued, his gaze never leaving my face.
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
But possessive.
Like it was already an established rule.
"I didn't think it was a big deal," I replied, trying to sound steady.
A faint smile touched his lips.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
"It is to me."
My breath hitched.
There was something in his tone—something quiet but absolute—that made it clear he wasn't joking.
I tried to pull my hand back.
He didn't let go.
Instead, he stepped even closer, reducing the space between us until I could feel the warmth of his presence, overwhelming and inescapable.
"Something feels off," he said suddenly.
My heart stopped.
For a second, I thought—
He knows.
He knows I'm not her.
But his gaze softened just slightly, as if he was trying to understand something rather than confirm it.
"You've been different since you woke up," he added.
I looked away quickly, my thoughts scrambling.
"I'm just tired," I said.
A weak excuse.
But the only one I had.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Then, slowly, his hand moved.
Not away.
But upward.
His fingers brushed against my chin, lifting my face gently—yet firmly—until I had no choice but to meet his gaze again.
"Look at me when you speak," he murmured.
My breath caught.
There it was again.
That quiet control.
That way of making even the smallest action feel like something I couldn't refuse.
"I am looking at you," I whispered.
His eyes held mine for a moment longer than necessary.
Studying.
Searching.
And then—
Without warning—
He pulled me closer.
My body collided lightly with his, my free hand instinctively pressing against his chest to steady myself. His grip on my wrist shifted, sliding upward to my arm, holding me in place—not tightly, but enough to keep me there.
"You don't avoid me," he said softly.
The words weren't harsh.
But they carried weight.
Expectation.
Possession.
My heart pounded against my chest as I tried to create some distance, but he didn't allow it. His hold remained steady, his presence overwhelming in a way that made it hard to think clearly.
"I wasn't avoiding you," I said, though my voice came out softer than before.
His gaze dropped briefly—to my lips—before returning to my eyes.
"You are now."
A shiver ran through me.
Not entirely fear.
Not entirely something else.
And that confused me even more.
Because this—
This wasn't supposed to feel like this.
"I just needed some space," I whispered.
His expression changed slightly.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
Something more dangerous.
"You'll get it," he said calmly.
For a moment, relief flickered inside me.
But then he added—
"When I decide you can."
My breath hitched.
And just like that—
The illusion of freedom shattered.
Behind me, I could feel Sofia's presence, silent but aware, and somewhere in the distance, another gaze lingered.
But right now—
None of that mattered.
Because Kang Minjae hadn't let go.
And the way he held me—
Wasn't temporary.
It wasn't uncertain.
It was as if he had already decided something.
Something I wasn't part of.
Something I didn't get to choose.
And that realization—
Terrified me more than anything else.