Chapter 7

Nayeon was on autopilot.

A full week had passed since everything—everything—happened. The introductions. The staff meetings that felt longer than they needed to be. The unexpected collision of Momo and Jeongyeon back into her carefully controlled routine. And somehow, despite all of that, life at the office had kept moving forward like nothing monumental had shifted beneath her feet.

But it had. For her, at least.

She stared at her screen, eyes unfocused, cursor blinking patiently like it was waiting for her to catch up. Her mind, traitorous as ever, kept drifting back to that lunch meeting. The way she’d laughed too easily. The way she’d spoken without thinking. The way Jeongyeon had looked at her—like she saw her, not just Nayeon the associate, not just Nayeon the professional.

And the email.

Nayeon swallowed hard. She still hadn’t responded. She didn’t know why, exactly. Part of her had wanted to answer immediately—craft something polite, distant, safe. Another part of her wanted to say something real. And that part scared her more than the silence ever could.

She hadn’t told Mina. Or Chaeyoung. Not a word. Maybe that alone was her answer. Maybe keeping it to herself meant it was never meant to be anything more than a moment. A passing disruption. Something to let fade if she ignored it long enough.

Because Nayeon didn’t mess with her job. Ever.

She’d worked too hard for this. Three years of boundaries, discipline, and deliberate distance. Three years of telling herself that mixing work and anything else was a mistake she would never afford herself to do. And Jeongyeon—Jeongyeon was dangerous in the worst way.

Not reckless-dangerous. Not obvious-dangerous. Attractive-dangerous. The kind that pulled at you quietly. The kind that made you question rules you’d sworn by. The kind that made you wonder what it would be like to step just slightly outside the lines.

Nayeon exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together. Replying would mean opening a door. And she wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to walk through it.

So instead, she told herself what she’d been telling herself all week: If enough time passes, this feeling will disappear. If she stayed busy. If she stayed focused. If she stayed exactly where she was.

Eventually, she’d forget….Right?

It was conflicting for Nayeon—deeply so. Momo and Mina were thriving, and there was no way to miss it. Mina kept giving her and Chaeyoung little updates, half-casual, half-glowing. The proposal Momo had written, the one she’d worked on closely with Mina, had actually been approved by their supervisors. It was a big deal. A really big deal. And Nayeon was genuinely happy for them… or at least, she told herself she was.

Then Mina started disappearing every other lunch. At first, it was subtle—quick “I’m heading out” comments, rushed smiles. Then it became obvious. Mina was always with Momo. Always checking her phone, lips tugged into that soft, stupid smile whenever a message came through. Cheesing, really. Nayeon noticed it every time, even when she tried not to.

Things were falling perfectly into place for her friend. For Nayeon, it felt like the opposite.

Mina was having the time of her life, and meanwhile, Nayeon felt like she was slowly descending into her own private version of hell. Not dramatic enough to explode—just quiet, constant, and uncomfortable. And the worst part was that she couldn’t even pinpoint why she felt this way. Jealousy didn’t quite fit. Loneliness felt too simple. Regret maybe, but she hated that word.

She wondered, not for the first time, if she just needed to get laid. Maybe she just needed to go to a bar. A club. Find someone warm and distracting, the way she used to. The way she knew how to. It would be easy—too easy. Familiar. A shortcut out of feeling like this.

But the thought didn’t comfort her like it once would have. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t want to fall back on old coping mechanisms. Didn’t want the noise, the blur, the temporary fixes. So instead, she did something far worse.

She sat with the feeling. And it sucked.

So here she was again, sitting in her office, absently glancing at the clock. About an hour until lunch. Same routine, same quiet hum of the floor, same days blurring together the way they had all week. Nothing about today felt different—until suddenly, it did.

Her phone buzzed. Nayeon frowned and picked it up, eyes narrowing at the screen.

Unknown number.

Who the hell would be calling her right now? She answered before she could overthink it, lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end made her heart stop. It was Jeongyeon.

For a split second, Nayeon couldn’t breathe. The office noise faded into the background, the clicking of keyboards and low chatter dissolving into a dull buzz. Her fingers tightened around the phone as if it might slip right out of her hand.

“Hey,” Jeongyeon said, casually—too casually. “It’s me. I wasn’t sure if you still had this number.”

Nayeon swallowed hard. Of course she had this number. She just hadn’t used it.

Her mind raced, every thought colliding at once. Why is she calling? How did she get my number? Why now? A week of carefully built distance cracked open in an instant.

“…Hi,” Nayeon finally managed, her voice coming out quieter than she intended.

Jeongyeon chuckled softly on the other end, and the sound alone sent a familiar, dangerous pull straight through her chest.

“Yeah,” she said. “I figured I’d try calling. You never replied to my email.”

Nayeon closed her eyes. So much for letting time pass. She leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose even as a smile threatened to break through. “How did you even get my number?” she asked. “What are you—like—a fucking stalker or something?”

On the other end of the line, Jeongyeon let out an exaggerated gasp. “Stalker? Wow. I’m wounded. We know each other, come on now.”

“We met once,” Nayeon shot back. “One time. Last week.”

Jeongyeon’s laugh crackled through the speaker, soft and amused, and damn it—Nayeon felt her heart flutter. She hated that. Absolutely hated it.

“Well,” Jeongyeon said, clearly enjoying herself, “I don’t know… I looked your name up on the company website. Then found everything I needed.”

Nayeon barked out a laugh despite herself. “Wow. You’re such a fucking creep.”

Jeongyeon laughed too, deeper this time. “Mmm, I don’t know,” she teased. “Kinda sounds like you’re into it.”

Nayeon shook her head, grinning at her desk like an idiot. “You think I’m into creeps? Yeah, sure.”

There was a brief pause on the line, just long enough to make her pulse jump. “Hey,” Jeongyeon said lightly, “no judgment. Maybe you are.”

Nayeon snorted. “I guess, maybe I am,” she admitted before she could stop herself, laughing. “That must explain why I picked up the phone.”

Jeongyeon hummed in satisfaction. “See? We’re making progress already.”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered, warmth spreading in her chest despite every boundary she’d sworn she wouldn’t cross. God. This woman was dangerous.

Nayeon didn’t want to admit it—but she really liked this. The back-and-forth. The easy banter. The way talking to Jeongyeon felt natural, like slipping into something familiar she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing. She especially hated how much she liked hearing her voice, how it made her chest feel warm and stupid over something so small. They’d only talked once before this. Once. And yet here she was.

She found herself leaning closer to the phone, elbow resting on her desk, fingers absently tracing the edge of a sticky note as if that somehow helped her focus.

“So,” Jeongyeon said, her tone playful but softer now, “you gonna keep acting like you hate me, or are we past the ‘you’re a creep’ phase?”

Nayeon scoffed, rolling her chair back an inch. “I never said I hated you.”

“Mhm,” Jeongyeon hummed. “You just called me a stalker. Slight difference.”

Nayeon pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”

“Wow,” Jeongyeon replied dramatically. “And here I thought I was charming.”

“Debatable,” Nayeon said, but her voice lacked any real bite. If anything, it sounded lighter than it had all week.

Jeongyeon chuckled. “You sound less stressed than the last time we talked.”

Nayeon paused, surprised. She hadn’t even noticed it herself until now. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I guess I am.”

Jeongyeon hummed. “Good. I was starting to think I might have to step in and fix that myself.”

Nayeon blinked. “…oh?”

Jeongyeon grinned into the phone. “Yeah. You know. Stress relief. I’m very generous like that.”

“…you’re so stupid,” Nayeon muttered—but she was smiling.

There was something about this—about her—that made it easy to breathe. And that scared Nayeon almost as much as it thrilled her.

There was suddenly a brief silence on the line. Not an awkward one—just enough that Nayeon could hear Jeongyeon’s breathing, slow and steady, like she hadn’t moved the phone away from her face at all. Strangely, it grounded her. Calmed her. For half a second, Nayeon let herself just sit in it.

Then Jeongyeon spoke, and the spell snapped.

“So,” she said casually, like she hadn’t just knocked the air out of Nayeon’s lungs, “did you get my email?”

Nayeon let out a short laugh, rubbing her temple. “No shit. Of course I got your email.”

“Oh?” Jeongyeon teased. “And?”

“And what?” Nayeon shot back.

“What do you think about it?”

“What is there to think about?” Nayeon laughed again, but this time it came out a little breathless.

Jeongyeon hummed. “I don’t know. Maybe I think you should take my offer.”

Nayeon leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “And what exactly is your offer?”

There was a pause—deliberate. Dangerous.

“Whatever you think my offer is,” Jeongyeon said smoothly.

Heat rushed to Nayeon’s face, creeping up her neck. She swallowed, heart thudding, annoyed at how easily Jeongyeon could do this to her with just a voice. “You’re being very vague.”

“And you’re still listening,” Jeongyeon replied.

Nayeon scoffed, though her grip on the phone tightened. “So spell it out for me. What exactly are you trying to give me?”

On the other end of the line, Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—just barely, but Nayeon caught it. And she knew. The realization sent a thrill straight through her.

Jeongyeon chuckled softly. “Careful, Nayeon,” she said. “You’re starting to sound curious.”

Nayeon smiled despite herself. Damn it. Jeongyeon let out a soft laugh on the other end, like she already knew she had her right where she wanted her.

“I really think you should take my proposal,” Jeongyeon said again, tone easy but confident. “I mean… Mina and Momo are already hitting things off pretty well.”

Nayeon clicked her tongue, rolling her chair back a little. “Wow. You’re so persistent.”

Jeongyeon hummed. “I mean… if they can figure things out that fast, I feel like I could catch up.”

Nayeon raised a brow. “…catch up to what, exactly?”

Jeongyeon smiled. “You.”

“…you’re insane.”

“I know,” Jeongyeon replied immediately, unapologetic. Then—just to make it worse—she added, “And I’m not going to give up until you say you will~”

There it was. That faint, exaggerated whine at the end of her sentence, clearly intentional. Nayeon pressed her lips together, heat blooming across her cheeks. God. She could hear the teasing smile in Jeongyeon’s voice, could practically picture her leaning back somewhere, smug and relaxed, knowing exactly what she was doing.

“You’re so annoying,” Nayeon muttered.

Jeongyeon laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Nayeon said, too quickly. Then, quieter, almost to herself, “Unbelievably annoying.”

“And yet,” Jeongyeon teased, voice dropping just a little, “you’re still on the phone with me.”

Nayeon closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. Damn it. She hated how right that was. Jeongyeon doesn’t even hesitate. “What are you doing for lunch today?” she shot out suddenly.

Nayeon blinked, momentarily thrown. She glanced at the clock on her monitor—11:30. Thirty minutes to go.

“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “I think I already have plans.”

There was a beat. Then Jeongyeon scoffed lightly. “Think you have plans? Or you actually have plans?”

Nayeon spun her pen between her fingers. “I don’t know. It depends.”

Jeongyeon laughed, low and pleased. “Okay, then how about this. We get lunch. I’ll treat.”

Nayeon paused, heart doing that annoying little skip again. “You’re a treat,” she said before she could stop herself.

Jeongyeon made a sound—half laugh, half surprised inhale. “Careful,” she murmured. “You keep saying things like that, I might start thinking you’re trying to get me alone.”

Nayeon’s breath hitched. “…and what if I am?”

“…then lunch might not be enough,” Jeongyeon said lightly.

A giggle spilled from Nayeon’s lips suddenly as she tried holding it back.

Jeongyeon made a sound—half laugh, half surprised inhale. “Seriously though. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll come down to your floor. Meet you by the elevator. We’ll grab food, talk for an hour. You just… hear me out.”

God. She was relentless. And the worst part? This—this—was the best Nayeon had felt all week. Lighter. Warm. Like something had finally cracked open in her chest after days of pressure. The pull was there again, strong and undeniable.

Nayeon exhaled slowly, eyes drifting shut. “…You’ll be by the elevator?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon said immediately. “In thirty minutes.”

Nayeon swallowed, then smiled despite herself. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good,” Jeongyeon replied, satisfaction clear in her voice. A beat. Then— “I hope you’re wearing something easy to take off.”

Click.

The call ended before Nayeon could even process it.”…what the—”

She lowered the phone slowly, staring at nothing as her heart started racing way too fast. Heat rushed up her neck. Anticipation buzzed under her skin—sharp, electric, impossible to ignore.

“She’s so—” Nayeon muttered under her breath, pressing a hand flat against her chest like that would somehow calm it down as she closed her eyes. It didn’t. God. What was she getting herself into?

Then Nayeon suddenly felt it—that prickly sensation of being watched. She cracked one eye open. Chaeyoung was peering over the cubicle wall like a full-on meerkat, elbows hooked on the edge, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Nayeon startled. “Jesus—what?”

Chaeyoung shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t know. You were on the phone for, like… a while. And you were smiling. Which is weird. Something happened.”

Nayeon groaned internally. Fuck. Of course Chaeyoung noticed. She always noticed. And Mina was probably listening from the other side, pretending not to. She rubbed her face with both hands and exhaled hard. “Okay, don’t freak out.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes immediately widened. “Oh my god. Something definitely happened.”

Mina popped up too, right on cue, her chin resting on her hand. “What happened?” she asked calmly, which somehow made it worse.

Nayeon slumped back in her chair. “I’m… going to lunch.”

Chaeyoung blinked. “That’s it? You made it sound like you committed a crime.”

“With Jeongyeon,” Nayeon added flatly.

Dead silence echoed. Chaeyoung’s mouth dropped open. Mina’s eyebrows shot up.

“…That Jeongyeon I never got to meet?” Chaeyoung asked slowly. “From last week?”

“Yes, that Jeongyeon,” Nayeon muttered. “She called me. Somehow got my number. Don’t ask. And she won’t stop flirting. And now we’re getting lunch. I’m meeting her at the elevator. In thirty minutes.”

Mina smiled first. A small, knowing smile. “How do you feel about it?”

Nayeon hesitated. “…Conflicted. Nervous. Kind of excited. Annoyed. All of the above.”

Chaeyoung squinted at her. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Nayeon groaned again, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to tell you guys because I didn’t know if it was even going to happen. But now it is. And I don’t want to hide it. So. Yeah.”

Mina nodded thoughtfully. “Well,” she said gently, “it’s just lunch.”

Chaeyoung crossed her arms. “Yeah. Just lunch. With the dangerously charming woman who made you spiral for a week.”

Nayeon pointed at her. “See? This is why I didn’t say anything.”

Chaeyoung cracked a grin anyway. “I mean… I’m not judging. I’m just watching. Closely.”

Nayeon glanced at the clock again—11:34. Her stomach fluttered. “God,” she muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Mina smiled. “You kind of look like you need this.”

Nayeon didn’t respond. She just sat there, heart racing again, already counting down the minutes until the elevator doors opened. Mina tilted her head, a teasing smile already creeping onto her face. She let out a little giggle and said, “So… I was right. It wasn’t just flirting or just words, huh?”

Nayeon immediately rolled her eyes. “It is still just words. Trust. Like I told you, I don’t mess with people from work. It’s literally just lunch. And it was just a phone call. We were just talking.”

Mina hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mm-hmm. Sure. You can just admit I was right for once, you know. It’s okay.”

Nayeon scoffed. “Okay, whatever. I’m not admitting anything though. We don’t even know what’s gonna happen. And besides,” she added quickly, grasping for logic, “she wants to talk about business proposals. She wants to do what you and Momo are doing. So it’s nothing more than that. Probably. Strictly business.”

Chaeyoung immediately perked up. “Strictly business?” She snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

Mina laughed. “Didn’t really sound like strictly business to me. You guys were both on the phone giggling.”

“I was not giggling,” Nayeon shot back, pointing at her.

Mina raised an eyebrow. “You totally were. A couple times, actually. We heard you.”

Nayeon groaned and dropped her head back against her chair. “God, I can never have any fucking privacy. Why are you two even here?”

Chaeyoung grinned. “Because this is better than work.”

Nayeon glanced at the clock again—11:40. Twenty more minutes. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm the restless energy buzzing in her chest.

Mina and Chaeyoung both laughed at the same time, clearly enjoying her misery.

“Relax,” Mina said warmly. “It’s just lunch.”

Nayeon muttered, “Yeah. Just lunch,” even though her foot was already bouncing under the desk.

God. She couldn’t believe she was actually looking forward to it.

——–

Lunch rolled around quicker than Mina expected.

Her mind was a mess ever since that day in the copier room last week. She wanted to tell Nayeon and Chaeyoung at first. But by the time she made it to her cubicle that day, the embarrassment struck her more than anything.

She would tell them…. Later. She promised herself she would. So instead, it went in her diary that night, along with her other thoughts that she sat on constantly..

The past few days, she found herself walking out with Momo almost automatically during lunches, like it had already become routine. It was kind of funny how natural it felt now—getting in the elevator to meet, grabbing lunch together, talking what shop to go to, laughing about small things. What started as “just for the collaboration project” had quietly turned into something they both seemed to look forward to.

Mina was learning Momo in layers. How focused she got when she talked about work, how animated her hands were when she explained an idea, how she softened when the conversation drifted into more personal territory. It was nice. Comforting, even. Maybe they were moving fast—but Mina didn’t exactly mind. It had only been over a week, edging toward two, and yet it felt… significant. Different.

She didn’t really have a frame of reference, anyways. Mina had never dated before. Never done anything like this. And yet, every time she was around Momo, that same sting of thrill sparked in her chest, sharp and electric. Excitement, nerves, curiosity—all tangled together.

And then there were the thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake.

Every so often, Mina’s gaze would drift down without meaning to—just a quick glance at Momo’s shoes as they walked side by side—and suddenly she was back there. The club. The bathroom. The wall between them. The sounds. The heat. The choice she made.

Her stomach would flutter every time.

What made it worse—better?—was that Momo acted like it had never happened at all. Easy, natural, unaware. Or at least, that’s how it seemed. Mina had started to doubt herself, wondering if maybe she’d imagined it, if her mind was just playing tricks on her.

But no. She knew. There was no mistaking it. The voice. The presence. The feeling. It had to have been Momo. And as Mina walked beside her now, lunch in hand, pretending everything was normal, that secret she had sat quietly between them—unspoken, buzzing, waiting.

The two of them ended up at a small local chicken spot just down the street—nothing fancy, just warm lights, laminated menus, and the kind of place that smelled good the second you stepped inside. By the time they were heading back, paper bags warm in their hands, Mina felt lighter than she had all morning.

Back inside the building, they slipped into the elevator together. Momo reached out and pressed the button for the seventh floor, the soft ding echoing as the doors slid shut.

Mina stole a few quiet glances at her, eyes darting before she could stop herself. It was kind of surreal—how different everything felt now compared to just a couple of weeks ago. Same building, same job… completely different energy.

Momo shifted slightly beside her, adjusting the bag in her hands before glancing over. She caught Mina looking. Of course she did. A small smile tugged at her lips—subtle, but definitely there.

“…you good?” Momo asked, voice light.

Mina blinked, immediately looking forward like she hadn’t just been caught. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Momo hummed, clearly unconvinced. Then, after a beat—”You keep staring at me.”

She said it so casually it almost didn’t register. Almost. Mina choked on absolutely nothing. “I am not—”

“You are,” Momo cut in, still calm, still amused. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

That made it worse.

“Okay, I wasn’t staring,” Mina muttered, heat creeping up her neck. “I was just—looking.”

Momo tilted her head slightly, like she was genuinely considering that. “…at me, huh?”

Mina turned to look at her fully now, narrowing her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

Momo grinned. “Yeah, but you still came to lunch with me.”

Mina opened her mouth—Closed it. Because… yeah. Momo leaned back against the elevator wall, satisfied, like she’d just won something. “Just saying,” she added, shrugging a little. “If you’re gonna stare, at least commit.”

The elevator dinged. Doors slid open. Mina walked out first this time—fast. “Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, already heading down the hall.

Behind her, Momo just laughed softly, following a step behind like she had all the time in the world.

Soon enough, they are at the kitchen area.

It was open and bright—tables, chairs, the low buzz of coworkers talking in the background. Some people drifted in and out, grabbing food, lingering for a moment, then disappearing back to their desks. Momo and Mina claimed a table near the side, quickly sitting down and opening their bags.

They started eating without much ceremony. And it was nice.

Not the awkward kind of silence—just an easy one. The kind where you didn’t feel pressured to fill the space with words. Mina found herself relaxing, listening to the muffled conversations around them, the clink of utensils, the soft shuffle of footsteps. Even with other people nearby, it felt strangely intimate, like they had carved out a small bubble just for themselves.

Mina glanced up at Momo again, smiling faintly to herself. Yeah. This felt really nice.

For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence. The quiet wasn’t awkward—just the gentle kind, broken by the rustle of paper bags and the occasional clink of plastic utensils. Mina watched Momo out of the corner of her eye, the way she focused on her food a little too hard, shoulders a bit tense. Something was clearly sitting on her mind.

Momo poked at her chicken, then stopped. She shifted in her seat, cleared her throat once. Then again.

Mina glanced up. “You okay?”

“Yeah—yeah,” Momo said quickly, a little too quickly. She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just, uh… there’s something I wanted to say.”

That got Mina’s full attention. She set her food down, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Okay?”

Momo hesitated, eyes flicking around the room like she was checking to make sure no one was listening too closely. Then she looked back at Mina, expression suddenly earnest. “I just wanted to apologize…. again,” she said.

Mina blinked, confused, still chewing. “Apologize for what?”

Momo swallowed. “Uh… about my colleague. My friend. Jeongyeon. Since she… called Nayeon today…..”

Mina froze for half a second—then her lips twitched. Oh. That.

Momo kept going, nerves spilling out now. “I’m just—sorry if she said anything weird to your colleague today. To Nayeon. She can be a lot, and sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop, and I just didn’t want—”

Mina covered her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a laugh. She swallowed quickly, eyes bright with amusement. “Oh,” she said softly. “That’s what you’ve been stressing about.”

Momo blinked. “You can tell?”

“Kind of,” Mina admitted, smiling. “You look like you’ve been bracing for impact all day.”

Momo sighed, slumping a little. “I just didn’t want things to get uncomfortable. Especially since… you know. You and I are working together. And Jeongyeon’s just—Jeongyeon.”

Mina finally laughed out loud, shaking her head. “Momo, it’s really okay. You don’t have to apologize for her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Mina said gently. “Nayeon can handle herself. If she didn’t like it, she’d shut it down immediately. Probably with sarcasm.”

That earned a small laugh from Momo. “Yeah… that checks out.”

Mina smiled at her, something warm and genuine in her expression. “Honestly, I think they’re just… similar. Stubborn. Flirty. Kind of annoying.”

Momo huffed a quiet laugh. “Very annoying.”

“But not in a bad way,” Mina added, picking her food back up. “So don’t worry so much.”

Momo let out a long breath, shoulders finally relaxing. “Okay. Good. Because I’ve been driving myself crazy over this for the last thirty minutes.”

Mina glanced at her again, amused. “You worry a lot.”

Momo smiled sheepishly. “Only about important things.”

Mina’s smile softened. “Yeah,” she said. “I noticed.”

The two of them laugh together, the sound easy and light, and Mina just… watches her for a second longer than she probably should. There’s something about the way Momo laughs—a little shy, a little guarded—that makes Mina’s chest feel warm.

“But seriously,” Mina says, nudging the moment back on track, her tone gentle, “you really don’t have to worry. And besides, I’m pretty sure those two are following through with getting lunch right now. Just the same as us.”

Momo’s smile flickers, just slightly. “Yeah,” she says. “I….. hope it’s just lunch……”

Mina tilts her head, studying her. Then she smiles, soft and thoughtful. “I don’t know. Might be nice. I think they’re… kind of becoming friends.”

Momo lets out a small, disbelieving scoff. “Friends,” she repeats, dragging the word out like she doesn’t fully buy it.

Mina raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Friends,” she says simply. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Momo lets out a small, disbelieving scoff. “…..right…,” she says, dragging the word out.

Mina nods, completely serious. “Yeah.”

Momo just looks at her for a second… then looks back down at her food. “…okay,” she mutters. She starts to push her food around a bit with her fork, suddenly quiet.

Mina notices immediately. She doesn’t push, though. Instead, she leans back in her chair slightly, watching Momo with a soft, curious expression. There’s something there—something unsaid. Not jealousy exactly, but… concern. Maybe protectiveness. Maybe fear of things getting complicated.

Mina smiles faintly. “You okay?” she asks, voice low, careful.

Momo blinks, looks up, then forces a small smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Mina nods, accepting that for now. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable—just heavier than before. But somehow, it still feels intimate. Like they’re both aware they’re standing at the edge of something new, something neither of them quite knows how to name yet. And for the first time, Mina doesn’t mind the quiet at all.

Momo clears her throat suddenly, the sound cutting gently through the comfortable silence between them. She takes another bite of her chicken, chews slowly, then looks up at Mina like the question has been sitting on her tongue for a while. “So,” she says casually, a little too casually, “what about us?”

Mina blinks. “Us?”

Momo shrugs, eyes flicking away for just a second before coming back. “Yeah. I mean… are we just friends?”

Mina freezes. She stares at Momo, trying to read her expression, trying to decide if this is flirting or teasing or just Momo being Momo. She genuinely can’t tell. That’s the worst part. Mina hates being put in situations like this—where the meaning isn’t clear, where she has to respond without knowing the rules. She’s always been good at observing from the outside, at recognizing when other people flirt. But when it’s directed at her? Everything short-circuits.

She swallows and clears her throat. “Maybe,” she says carefully. “Maybe we’re just… colleagues.”

Momo pauses mid-bite. “Colleagues,” she repeats slowly, like she’s tasting the word. Then her lips curl. “Wow,” she says, almost impressed. “That’s kinda cold, don’t you think?”

Mina laughs nervously. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh?” Momo tilts her head, eyes glinting now. “So I’m not just your colleague?”

Mina shakes her head quickly. “No, no—maybe friends too.”

“Friends,” Momo echoes. A beat. Then she leans back in her chair, fully settling in now. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s go with that.”

Mina relaxes—Too soon.

“Friends who have each other’s personal numbers?” Momo adds casually.

Mina’s smile falters. “Friends can do that.”

“Mhm.” Momo nods. “Friends who text each other after work?”

“…Yes?”

“Friends who send each other random videos at like—what, midnight?”

Mina presses her lips together. “…sometimes.”

Momo hums. Then—”Friends who stay up talking on the phone until they fall asleep?”

Mina chokes. “We did that one time—”

“Twice,” Momo corrects immediately.

Mina freezes. “…twice.”

Momo raises an eyebrow. “Right.”

Mina shifts in her seat now, very aware of how warm her face feels. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Friends who almost kiss each other in the copier room?” Momo adds, cutting her off lightly.

Mina goes completely still. “…we did not—”

Momo just looks at her. Not even saying anything. Just—looking. Mina breaks first. “That was— that was just a moment—”

“A moment,” Momo repeats, nodding slowly, like she’s filing that away. “Got it.”

Silence hits them. Then—Mina exhales, dropping her head slightly, a small, helpless smile creeping in. “Okay,” she mutters. “Maybe not just friends.”

Momo hums softly, satisfied. “Yeah,” she says, taking another bite like she didn’t just corner her completely. “That’s what I thought.”

Something about the way she says it—confident, teasing, warm—sends that familiar flutter through Mina. It’s not the sharp nervousness she used to feel. This is different.

It’s lighter. Almost exciting. The same feeling that creeps up when her mind betrays her and drifts back to that club bathroom, to tiled walls and racing thoughts and the thrill she still doesn’t quite know what to do with.

Mina shifts in her seat, suddenly very aware of Momo’s presence. Momo notices immediately. She leans forward just a bit, resting her elbows on the table. “Hey,” she says softly, smiling. “Relax. I’m just teasing.”

Mina laughs under her breath. “You’re really not.”

Momo grins. “Maybe not.”

Their eyes meet, and for a second the air between them feels warmer, heavier—charged in a way Mina doesn’t have a name for yet. But she doesn’t pull away. She just lets herself sit in it, letting the conversation flow, letting herself feel whatever this is becoming.

Mina doesn’t know what comes over her. It starts small. Her gaze drifts—just for a second—down to Momo’s lips. Her eyes dart around, scanning the details. Then her gaze drifts over Momo’s face fully again, tracing familiar lines, when she notices it—a small crumb of chicken resting against Momo’s cheek, dangerously close to her lips. Mina looks at her lips again. Then back up. Too late. Momo catches it. Of course she does. A slow, knowing smile tugs at her mouth.

“…you keep doing that,” Momo murmurs.

Mina blinks. “Doing what?”

Momo tilts her head slightly, eyes flicking down—then back up again. “…looking at me like that.”

Mina’s stomach drops. “I’m not—”

Momo huffs a quiet laugh, leaning back just slightly, clearly entertained. “Relax,” she says, voice light. “I’m just saying—” A beat. Then, softer. Teasing. “I bet you wouldn’t actually do anything about it.”

Mina freezes. Heat floods her face instantly. “What—”

Momo shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I’m kidding.” But she’s not really. “Forget it.”

And that’s when something in Mina—snaps. Not angry. Not reckless. Just—done thinking. Her gaze drops again. To Momo’s lips. This time she doesn’t look away.

Momo notices. The shift is immediate. Her expression stills. Something quieter settling in. More serious.

Mina leans forward. Too fast. Too close. Momo barely has time to react before Mina’s hand is reaching out, her thumb brushing gently against her cheek.

The contact is light—almost tentative—but it lingers. Her thumb warm against Momo’s skin. Her fingers resting along her jaw without realizing they’ve stayed there.

Momo freezes. Her breath catches—sharp, quiet. Because it’s not just the touch. It’s the way Mina closed the distance. The way she didn’t hesitate this time.

Something shifts. Deep. Unfamiliar—and not unfamiliar at all. Mina swipes the crumb away carefully, eyes lifting—Only to realize how close they are now.

“I—” Momo exhales, voice low, unsteady. “…Mina…”

Like she’s testing it. Like she’s not sure what happens if she says it out loud. Neither of them moves. They’re breathing the same air now.

Mina blinks, suddenly aware of everything all at once. “You… had a crumb,” Mina murmurs, voice softer than she expects. Her heart is hammering so loudly she’s convinced Momo can hear it. Momo’s eyes flicker—Down. To Mina’s lips. And this time—She doesn’t look away.

She leans in. Slow. Careful. Like she’s giving Mina time to stop her. Mina doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t think. Their lips almost touch—

Momo’s fingers twitch where they rest on the table. Her stomach drops. And suddenly—She’s not here. Dim lights. Stall bathroom. Muffled noise. A space too small. Too close. The same tension. The same loss of control.

Her breath stutters. Something in her chest tightens—sharp, wrong. Familiar. Too familiar. Her eyes snap back into focus—Just as—

Her phone buzzes.

The sound cuts through the moment like a blade. Both of them jerk back slightly. The space between them breaking all at once. Too fast. Too abrupt. Mina’s hand drops.

Momo inhales sharply, like she just surfaced from underwater. Neither of them speaks. Not right away. Everything feels—different now.

Momo jerks her head down instinctively, breaking eye contact, and Mina snaps back into herself all at once. She leans away quickly, dropping her hand, sitting back in her chair like nothing just happened.

Except everything just happened. Heat floods Mina’s face, creeping up to her ears. Her chest feels tight, her thoughts spiraling.

What the hell did I just do???

God, she feels stupid. Embarrassed. Flustered in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Her hands feel too warm, her heart still racing. She stares down at her food, pretending very hard to be normal, while her mind reels.

Why did she do that? And worse—Why didn’t she want to pull away?

The buzzing of Momo’s phone cuts through Mina’s spiraling thoughts. Momo pulls it out of her pocket, glancing at the screen before letting out a small, distracted huff. Mina checks her own phone at the same time.

1:00 p.m.

Their lunch break is over. Of course. Mina exhales quietly, still trying to collect herself. Then—She finally looks up. And freezes.

Momo is—Not okay. Not even a little.

Her cheeks are flushed, noticeably red. Her chest rises and falls a little too fast, like she’s trying to steady her breathing and failing. Her eyes keep darting—anywhere but Mina—before flicking back for half a second and then away again.

Like she doesn’t know where to look. Like she doesn’t trust herself to.

Mina blinks. Oh.

Momo suddenly lifts her hands and covers her face completely. “…oh my god,” she mutters under her breath. She lets out a quiet groan, shoulders hunching slightly as she leans forward, elbows resting on the table.

For a second, she just… stays like that. Hiding. Mina stares at her. Completely thrown. “…what?” she asks, half-laughing, half-panicking.

Momo slowly lowers her hands—just enough to peek at her through her fingers. Her lips are pressed into the smallest pout. Eyes soft. Still a little dazed.

“You’re so—” she starts, then exhales, shaking her head slightly. “…you’re dangerous Mina.”

Mina’s brain short-circuits. “What?” she blurts. “I didn’t— I didn’t do anything.”

Momo just looks at her. Really looks at her. That same soft, slightly overwhelmed expression still sitting there. “You know what you did,” she murmurs.

Mina’s jaw actually drops. “No I don’t.”

Momo leans her cheek into her palm now, still watching her, still a little flushed. There’s something almost… fond in her expression. And something else Mina can’t quite place.

“…you act all quiet,” Momo adds softly, tilting her head, “and then you do stuff like that.” A small pause. Then, quieter— “Feels a little unfair.”

Mina just stares at her. Because what is she even supposed to say to that?

Momo huffs a small laugh, like she’s trying to shake it off, even though the flush hasn’t gone away. “Anyways,” she says, straightening up a bit, grabbing her phone again like nothing just happened—”hopefully I don’t have any more crumbs on my face.”

Mina exhales sharply, heat rushing right back up her neck. “You’re— you’re fine.”

Momo hums, clearly not believing her, but lets it go. For now. The two of them quickly clean up their plates and toss out their garbage—quietly, movements a little too careful, a little too aware.

The air between them is… weird. Not bad. Just—charged.

Mina grabs her bag, already mentally preparing to escape. “Okay, I’ll—” she starts, turning toward the exit.

“Wait.”

Momo’s voice is quick. Mina stops immediately. Turns back. “…what?”

She barely gets the word out before—Momo steps closer. Too close. Her hand catches Mina’s wrist—light, but enough to stop her completely. Mina’s breath hitches.

“Hold on,” Momo murmurs, like she just noticed something.

And then—Her other hand comes up. Cups Mina’s cheek. Everything in Mina’s brain short-circuits. “Mo—”

But Momo is already leaning in. Slow. Deliberate. Eyes flicking to her lips for just a second—And Mina—panics. Her eyes shut. Automatically. Like her body just decided for her.

A beat passes. Nothing happens. Then—A soft brush against her cheek. Not a kiss. Just—Momo’s thumb.

Mina’s eyes snap open. Momo is right there. Way too close. Trying not to smile. “…you had something,” she says, way too casually.

There’s a beat of silence. Mina stares at her. Processing. Then—”Oh my god.” Her face burns. “You’re— you’re actually insane.”

Momo finally breaks, laughing softly. “What? I was helping you.”

“No, you weren’t!” Mina shoves her lightly by the shoulder, mortified. “You’re so annoying.”

Momo just grins, completely unapologetic. And worse— Her hand lingers for half a second too long at Mina’s waist before she steps back. Like she did it on purpose. (…she did.)

“Anyway,” Momo says, grabbing her bag like nothing just happened, “I’ll see you later.”

Mina just blinks at her. Still trying to recover. “…yeah. Bye.”

Momo gives her one last look—amused, knowing—then turns and heads out. The second she’s gone—Mina exhales. Hard. “What the fuck—”

She presses a hand to her face, pacing once in place like that’s going to help. It doesn’t. Her heart is still racing. Her brain is still stuck on the fact that she—closed her eyes. “Oh my god.”

By the time she’s in the elevator, she’s fully spiraling again. Leaning back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. A slow, disbelieving smile creeping in despite herself.

Yeah.

That’s definitely going in the diary tonight.