Chapter 3

A couple of days had passed since that last conversation, and on the surface, nothing had really changed for Mina. Same commute. Same cubicle. Same quiet routines.

She’d even followed through on Chaeyoung’s advice—quietly, efficiently. A quick appointment, in and out of the doctors office, no fuss. The results had come back the day before today.

Clean.

The confirmation had settled something in her, a small knot of tension she hadn’t fully acknowledged until it was gone. It should’ve made everything feel simpler. Lighter. And yet, something still felt… off. The moment she stepped into work that morning, she noticed it. Flyers were taped up along the hallway walls, bright and unavoidable.

Mandatory All-Staff Meeting.

Mina frowned slightly. That was strange. They only did these every six months—sometimes even less. They’d just had one not that long ago. A sudden call like this, directly from the CEO no less, felt unusual.

Still, she didn’t think too much about it.

Soon enough, she found herself crammed into a massive conference room along with what felt like half the company. Multiple floors. Multiple departments. Faces she recognized, faces she absolutely didn’t. Mina hated meetings like this—long-winded presentations, corporate jargon, vague promises about “growth” and “realignment.” Half of it could’ve just been an email, honestly.

As the meeting dragged on, she became painfully aware of how out of place she felt. Every time they were prompted to turn to the people around them for quick breakout discussions, Mina froze. She nodded. Smiled politely. Said very little. Across the room, she spotted Chaeyoung chatting easily with people she’d never met, effortlessly folding herself into conversation. Nayeon was doing the same, laughing, animated as ever.

God, Mina felt so awkward.

Needing a moment to herself, Mina quietly stood and slipped toward the back of the room, where a long table was set up with coffee pots, tea bags, and small trays of snacks. Coffee, she thought. That’ll help.

She grabbed a paper cup and poured herself some coffee from a large pot that had already been brewed for the meeting. Her movements were sluggish—she still wasn’t fully awake. She reached for the sugar packets, tore a couple open—and promptly dropped one. “Great,” she muttered under her breath.

She bent down to grab it, but before she could, someone else moved faster. Slim fingers reached down and picked up the packet.

Mina froze.

Something about the hand made her pause—not dramatic, not obvious, just… familiar in a way that made her chest tighten. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

Her eyes dropped first. To the shoes. Her breath caught. She knew those shoes. Dark leather. Clean, but worn just enough. And there it was—clear as day. The faint imprint of an M on the side. Even the small scuff near the left toe was still there. Her heart dropped.

No. No way.

Her gaze flicked back up, pulse hammering so loudly she was sure it had to be audible. The room suddenly felt too warm, too loud, too close.

There’s no way, she told herself. Absolutely no way.

And yet—The sugar packet was gently placed back into her hand. For a split second, their fingers brushed. Mina swallowed hard, her mind racing, her thoughts spiraling as one impossible question took over everything else.

Was this… the same person?

She stood there, frozen between disbelief and something dangerously close to certainty, the noise of the meeting fading into the background as the weight of the moment settled in. And suddenly, nothing about that night felt distant anymore.

Mina just… stares.

She knows she should look away. Knows she should say something. Anything. But the girl standing in front of her completely short-circuits her brain.

She’s beautiful. Not in a quiet, background way—no, this is the kind of beauty that hits all at once and leaves no room to recover. Mina feels the heat rush up instantly, crawling up her neck, flooding her cheeks, her ears burning like she’s been caught doing something embarrassing.

The woman’s hair is a deep, rich chocolate brown, slightly shaggy, cut into a bob that looks deliberately undone. It’s still damp, glistening under the conference room lights, like she really did just step out of the shower and straight into this meeting. There’s something intimate about that alone that makes Mina’s stomach flip.

She’s dressed sharply—black blazer, tailored slacks, everything fitting her frame perfectly. Crisp white button-up done all the way to the neck, immaculate and neat, except for the tie. The tie is striped black and white, loosened just enough to feel intentional, like she knows how good that little bit of mess looks on her.

She’s taller than Mina. Not by much, but enough that Mina notices immediately. Enough that Mina has to tilt her chin up just a little.

Her face—God. Fox-like is the only word Mina can think of. Sharp but soft. Dark, chocolate-brown eyes that seem to gleam with curiosity. Thin, brown-reddish brows. Full lips pulled into a subtle, knowing grin, like she’s already amused by Mina’s reaction.

And she looks strong. Not bulky, not intimidating—just clearly fit. Mina catches the hint of muscle at her shoulders beneath the blazer, the contrast of a slim waist, a solid presence. It’s… distracting. Overwhelmingly so.

Mina realizes she hasn’t said a word. The woman notices. She smiles wider, clearly enjoying this. Mina’s brain, however, is no longer functioning. Because—those shoes. Those fucking shoes.

It hits her all at once, like a delayed explosion in her chest. No way. No actual way.

“My name’s Hirai Momo,” she says smoothly, voice warm and confident, like introductions are her natural habitat. “You can call me Momo.”

She then gives Mina a compliment—sweet, effortless, said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world—and Mina feels like she might actually short-circuit on the spot. Momo leans in just a little as she speaks. Close. Too close. And suddenly Mina is hyper-aware of everything— her voice, her presence, the way she smells—and worst of all—how familiar it feels.

“Oh—” Mina blinks rapidly. “I’m— I’m Mina. Myoui Mina.”

Her voice comes out softer than she expects. Like it forgot how to work. Like she forgot how to work. Momo hums lightly. Her eyes flick over Mina’s face, then lower, then back up again. Not rude. Not obvious. Just… curious. Interested. And something—something in Momo’s expression shifts. Just slightly. Her brows knit together for half a second. Like something isn’t adding up.

“…Have we met before?” Momo asks suddenly.

Casual. But not really. There’s something behind it. Something searching.

Mina’s brain flatlines. “No.”

Too fast. Too loud. Too immediate. Momo blinks Mina freezes.

“…No?” Momo echoes, a little amused now.

Mina’s face heats instantly. “I mean—no—like, I don’t think so,” she rushes, backtracking so hard it’s painful. “I would remember. Probably. I think.”

She is rambling. She knows she’s rambling. She cannot stop.

Momo tilts her head slightly, studying her now. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Confusion. Interest. Something else she can’t quite place.

“Huh,” Momo says softly. A beat passes. Then a small smirk tugs at her lips. “Well,” she adds, leaning in just a little again, voice dropping playfully, “I feel like I would’ve remembered you.”

Mina’s heart stops. Starts again. Violently.

“Yeah,” Mina says weakly. “Uh. Same.”

She is lying. So badly. Because she does remember. She remembers too much.

Momo lets out a quiet laugh, but her gaze lingers. Just a second too long. Like she’s still trying to solve something. Like there’s a piece missing. “Maybe I’m just imagining it,” she says lightly, waving it off. But her eyes don’t fully let it go.

Mina nods. Too quickly. “Yeah. Probably.”

And for a split second—Momo feels it again. That strange, unplaceable familiarity. Like she’s been close to this girl before. Like she knows the rhythm of her—without knowing why.

It’s gone as quickly as it comes. Momo smiles again. Easy. Charming. Like nothing happened. But something did. And Mina feels it in her chest.

Because this— this is already too much. She can’t tell what Momo’s thinking. If she’s impressed. If she’s just being friendly. If she’s always like this with everyone. Mina’s heart is racing, thoughts tangling over each other, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.She opens her mouth to say something else—and then the room erupts.

Chairs scrape loudly against the floor. Voices rise. People stand all at once, the quiet hum of the meeting replaced by movement and confusion. Mina startles, glancing toward the screen at the front of the room.

Breakout Rooms — Assigned by Floor and Department.

“Oh—” she mutters. She hadn’t been paying attention at all. The crowd surges toward the exits almost immediately, bodies pressing close, the space shrinking fast. Mina instinctively looks back toward Momo—and she’s gone.

Just… gone. Lost in the crowd.

Mina spins slightly, scanning faces, her pulse spiking again. She catches glimpses of blazers, familiar coworkers, strangers—but no damp hair, no striped tie, no fox-like grin. Her chest tightens.

Did that really just happen?
Did I imagine that?

She feels dazed as she’s swept along with everyone else, mind spiraling, heart still pounding as if Momo might reappear at any second. But she doesn’t. And by the time Mina’s herded into her assigned breakout room, all she’s left with is the lingering heat in her face, the ghost of that moment—

—and the unmistakable feeling that something just shifted, whether she’s ready for it or not.

Through the moving crowd, Mina suddenly spots Chaeyoung and Nayeon ahead of her. Relief hits instantly. She practically bum-rushes her way toward them, coffee sloshing dangerously in her one hand, while the fallen sugar packet in the other was completely forgotten. She’s moving fast enough that a few people glance over, annoyed, but she doesn’t care.

Her heart is still pounding too hard. When she finally reaches them, both Chaeyoung and Nayeon turn around at the same time—and immediately give her that look.

“Are you good?” Chaeyoung asks, brows knitting together.

Mina shakes her head hard. “No—no, I need to tell you something. Like, right now. Quick.”

Nayeon squints at her. “Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”

Before either of them can press her further, the three start walking toward the elevators for their breakout rooms. Mina keeps glancing around, eyes darting over the crowd like she’s afraid someone might disappear again.

“I—I found her,” Mina blurts. Nayeon stops short for half a second. “Found who?”

“The mystery person,” Mina says, voice dropping but still urgent. “The person with the shoes. From the club. From the bathroom. It was a girl.”

Nayeon stares at her like she’s lost her mind. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m serious,” Mina insists, almost breathless. “She was there. I just met her. I swear.”

Chaeyoung blinks. “Wait—they work here?”

“Yes!” Mina nods rapidly. “The one with the M on the shoes. It was a girl. It was her.”

The elevator doors slide open, cutting off the conversation, and the three of them step inside along with several other employees. Mina lowers her voice, but honestly—there are so many strangers packed in that it barely matters.

“Okay,” Mina rushes out. “I was getting coffee, and she picked up the sugar packet for me. And she’s—she’s hot. Like. Really hot.”

Now that gets Nayeon’s attention.

“Oh?” Nayeon says slowly. “Okay. What does she look like?”

Mina opens her mouth… and freezes. “I—” She exhales sharply. “I don’t know. Like—brown hair. A bob. She had on a black blazer, white button-up, striped black-and-white tie—”

Nayeon groans. “Girl, that’s an outfit. I asked about her face.”

“She has, like—fox-like features,” Mina tries again, hands gesturing helplessly. “Sharp eyes. Sharp shoulders. She’s built ans slim, but not bulky. Taller than me. Definitely taller than me. And the shoes—she had the shoes. With the M. And her name is Momo.”

Chaeyoung is half-listening, half-glancing at her phone.

“Hey,” Mina snaps, smacking her lightly on the arm. “Can you focus, please?”

Chaeyoung yelps. “Okay, damn! I was listening. You said her name was Momo, right?”

Mina pauses—and then it clicks. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Momo. Hirai Momo.”

Nayeon raises an eyebrow. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I’m telling you,” Mina presses, anxiety creeping back in, “she’s here. Like—here here. I saw her just now, but I lost her in the crowd.”

The elevator dings, doors sliding open as people begin pouring out. The three step into the hallway with everyone else, heading toward their assigned breakout room.

Nayeon smirks. “Okay,” she says. “Hot mystery girl with a name. I’ll remember that.”

Mina lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She’s actually relieved Nayeon is engaging—unlike Chaeyoung, who’s already sneaking looks at her phone again. By the time they reach the breakout room, Mina scans the space instinctively before sitting down. Nothing. No damp bob. No striped tie. No fox-like eyes.

Disappointment settles in her chest, though she’s not exactly surprised. Their floor is massive, and she’s never seen Momo before in nearly three years at this company. She has to be from another floor. Still, Mina’s heart is racing, adrenaline buzzing through her veins. She can’t remember the last time she’s felt this wired—this alive.

She lifts her coffee to calm herself, takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. “Ugh,” she mutters. “I forgot the sugar.”

Then she realizes something. The sugar packet is still in her other hand. Her breath stutters as she looks down at it. The same one. The one Momo handed her.

Mina carefully tears it open, stirring it into her coffee, heart skipping all over again as the breakout session officially begins—her thoughts already far, far away from whatever’s about to be discussed.

—–

Chaeyoung slumps back in her chair as the breakout room drones on, irritation buzzing under her skin.

This whole day already feels off. Her phone vibrates again in her lap, and she barely resists the urge to groan out loud. She tilts the screen toward herself, scanning the notification with a growing scowl. Another email. From her supervisor.

Great.

It’s about an intern—someone new starting on her floor next week. Chaeyoung skims the message, jaw tightening as she reads the part about mentorship expectations. Apparently, her supervisor wants her to be the intern’s point person.

She exhales slowly through her nose.

It’s not that she minds interns. Everyone starts somewhere; she gets that. But with all the new policies, sudden meetings, restructuring rumors, and extra responsibilities being quietly dumped on them lately, it just feels like one more thing stacked onto an already overloaded plate.

She locks her phone and glances at the time. Five minutes left. Five minutes until this breakout session ends—and then straight back into the massive, soul-sucking all-staff meeting.

Chaeyoung leans back, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the front of the room where someone is still talking about “alignment” and “cross-departmental synergy.” She bites down on her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes.

Something’s going on, she thinks.

The company never calls meetings like this so close together. They literally had a major one not long ago. Budget? Restructuring? Leadership changes? Whatever it is, the uncertainty is starting to grate on her nerves.

Another minute passes. And then it hits her. She needs to get up. Now.

Between sitting for hours, caffeine, and the nonstop back-and-forth between rooms, the urge is sudden and impossible to ignore. Chaeyoung shifts in her chair, frowns, then decides she’s done waiting.

She leans toward the person next to her, murmurs a quick, “Excuse me,” and rises quietly from her seat. No one stops her.

Slipping through the rows, she passes Mina and Nayeon—both focused forward—and makes her way toward the door. She moves fast but careful, shoulders tense, mind already mapping out where she needs to go next once this session wraps. Out in the hallway, the noise dulls immediately.

Chaeyoung exhales, rolling her shoulders as she heads down the corridor toward the bathroom at the far end. The carpet muffles her steps, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead.

It’s still not even noon, and somehow the morning already feels endless. Shaking her head to herself, she pushes the door open and disappears inside, unaware that this brief escape from the meeting is about to put her far closer to the center of whatever strange chain of events has been unfolding all morning.

Chaeyoung slips fully into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click. The quiet is a relief compared to the constant hum of voices and presentations outside. She heads straight for a stall, barely sparing a thought for anything else before finally getting the chance to relieve herself.

God. Finally. She exhales, resting her head briefly against the stall wall. Her phone buzzes faintly in her pocket again, and she grimaces. Of course. Even in here.

By the time she’s done, the bathroom has started to fill—heels clicking, doors opening and closing, the low murmur of coworkers trickling in. That’s when it hits her: the breakout session must be ending.

She flushes, pulls her pants up, buckles her belt, fixes her zipper. Everything neat, automatic. At the sink, she washes her hands, staring at her reflection for a second longer than usual.

She looks tired. Annoyed. A little wired. Chaeyoung lets out a long sigh. “God, this day is long as hell,” she mutters under her breath. Turning off the faucet, she dries her hands quickly and heads for the door. Just as she pushes it open, her phone buzzes again.

Shit.

Her hand flies to her pocket on instinct, attention snapping fully to the vibration—and she doesn’t even realize she’s misstepped until her foot catches. She stumbles. Before she can go crashing forward, a hand grips her arm, steady and firm, stopping her short.

“Hey—are you alright?” a voice says. “You okay?”

Chaeyoung freezes for half a second, heat rushing to her face from pure embarrassment. She straightens quickly, dusting herself off.

“Oh—yeah, yeah,” she says, forcing out a laugh. “Thanks. Sorry about that. I’m just… clumsy. Kinda hectic day.”

The other person chuckles softly. “You don’t have to tell me. I feel you.”

Chaeyoung looks up. And pauses. Brown bobbed hair. Slightly messy. A black blazer that fits perfectly. White button-up, striped black-and-white tie, loosened just enough to look intentional. And—oh. She’s tall. Definitely taller than Chaeyoung. Her brain clicks a second too late.

Wait a damn minute.

The woman gives a small, amused smirk, clearly having noticed Chaeyoung’s delayed reaction. “I’m Momo,” she says easily. “Hirai Momo.”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows lift before she can stop herself.

Holy shit.

So Mina wasn’t exaggerating. If anything… Mina undersold her.

Momo looks even better up close—sharp, fox-like features, dark eyes that feel a little too observant, a presence that makes the space around her feel smaller. Chaeyoung notices Momo’s phone in her hand, Instagram paused mid-scroll, like Chaeyoung’s clumsiness had interrupted her moment.

“Oh—right,” Chaeyoung says quickly, realizing she hasn’t introduced herself. “I’m Chaeyoung. Son Chaeyoung. Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands. Momo’s grip is firm—confident—but her hand is warm, her touch surprisingly gentle. Chaeyoung clocks it immediately. She clears her throat, slipping easily into conversation mode. “Uh, sorry again. What floor do you work on? I feel like I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Product management,” Momo replies. “Business side.”

“Oh, that explains it,” Chaeyoung says. “I’m in marketing.”

They exchange a few more words—small talk, nothing heavy. Easy. Natural. And then—An idea hits Chaeyoung like a lightning bolt. “Oh—actually,” she says suddenly, a little too fast, “I have a colleague on my floor. I’ve worked with her for a couple years—she’s really good—and she’s been wanting to collaborate with someone in product management.”

She is fully, completely talking out of her ass.

Momo raises an eyebrow, amused. “Really? Someone in marketing wants to collaborate with product management? That’s a first.”

Chaeyoung feels a flicker of panic but pushes through it, doubling down. “Yeah, I know, it’s not super common, but, you know—new times. She’s been wanting to expand, try something different.”

Momo tilts her head slightly. “Interesting. I’ve been here a couple years too.”

Oh shit.

Chaeyoung’s brain scrambles. And then she blurts, “Her name’s Mina.” Too late to stop now.

“Here—actually, let me give you her work number,” Chaeyoung continues, already pulling out her phone. “You should definitely give her a call. Just see what she’s talking about.”

Her phone lights up—another notification from her supervisor. Her eye twitches, but she swipes it away instantly and opens her contacts. Mina’s name pops up. She pauses just before reading anything out loud, then deliberately switches to Mina’s work number. Good save.

Chaeyoung reads it off carefully. Momo pulls out her phone and types it in without hesitation. Just then, the hallway floods with people—voices rising, footsteps quickening. The meeting is definitely over now.

Chaeyoung takes a step back, already feeling the rush of adrenaline. “Well—uh—it was really nice meeting you, Momo,” she says. “Seriously. Don’t forget to call her. I think you’d really like working with Mina.”

Momo smiles—slow, knowing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t wait another second. She turns and heads down the hall, practically bouncing as she rejoins the crowd, a huge grin spreading across her face.

God, she thinks. Mina is going to lose her mind.

She definitely pulled a big one for her friend.

——-

Mina drags herself back into the big conference room, irritation clinging to her like static. Her shoulders are tense, her patience completely shot. Please, she prays silently, let lunch be soon. This morning has felt never-ending.

She slips in beside Nayeon, scanning for Chaeyoung out of habit—only to realize she’s not there yet. Bathroom, probably. Of course.

Nayeon, already halfway checked out, wanders toward the back table where the snacks still sit, grabbing something small to hold her over. Mina barely registers it. Her head is still buzzing—from the meeting, from the weekend, from everything.

She’s just about to follow Nayeon back to their seats when—She feels it. A presence. Close. Warm.

Mina turns—And promptly forgets how to breathe. Her throat tightens, her heart lurches, and for a terrifying second she almost chokes on absolutely nothing.

Momo.

Standing there like she belongs everywhere she steps. “Well,” Momo says lightly, lips curving in a playful smile, “who would’ve thought I’d see you again so soon, huh?”

Her tone is teasing, easy—like this isn’t detonating Mina’s entire nervous system. Heat rushes up Mina’s neck, flooding her face, her ears. Her brain short-circuits completely. All she can think about is last Friday. The stall. The mystery. The hand. Her eyes betray her, flicking downward. The shoes. The M. Her heart nearly falls out of her chest.

It’s her. It’s really her.

“Is there something on my face?” Momo asks, amused. “Food? A crumb? You’re staring pretty hard.”

Mina jolts back to reality. “Oh—no! No, sorry. Um—” She winces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even—what—uh—what floor do you work on again?”

Smooth. So smooth, Mina mentally scolds herself.

There’s a beat. Then Momo’s smile widens. “…Wow,” she says slowly, clearly entertained. “That bad, huh?”

Mina’s face heats instantly. “No—I just—I was trying to—”

Momo tilts her head, eyes sparkling now, fully leaning into it. “I didn’t tell you what floor I work on,” she says.

Mina freezes.”…What?”

Momo nods, biting back a laugh. “Yeah. I just told you my name last time.”

Oh my god.

Mina’s brain short-circuits. “I—okay—yeah, I just—” she gestures vaguely, completely falling apart. “I was trying to make conversation.”

Momo hums, stepping just a little closer, like she’s inspecting her now. “Is that what that was?” she teases softly.

Mina wants to disappear. Immediately. “Yes,” she says weakly. “That was me trying.”

Momo lets out a quiet laugh, clearly delighted. “Relax,” she says, voice warm but playful. “You’re doing great.” She pauses—then adds, just to make it worse: “…It’s cute.”

Mina’s soul leaves her body. She presses her lips together, mortified.

“I heard,” Momo continues casually, leaning a little closer, “that you wanted to collaborate with someone in product management. And that you’re really good at what you do.”

Mina freezes. “…Product management?” she repeats faintly.

Momo blinks. Then grins wider, like she’s barely holding it together. “You don’t know what that is?”

Her voice is playful, not mocking—but definitely teasing.

“I—yeah—no—I mean—” Mina panics, then blurts, “Yes. Yes, I do. Product management. Of course. I absolutely want to collaborate with someone that does that.”

Momo hums thoughtfully, eyes dragging over Mina in a way that makes her acutely aware of her posture, her hands, her breathing. “Interesting,” she says. “Because your colleague—Son Chaeyoung—gave me your work number and said you were very serious about it.”

Mina internally screams. Chaeyoung. I will end you.

“Oh,” Mina says weakly. “Did she?”

“She did,” Momo confirms, pulling out her phone. “Said I should give you a call sometime.”

Momo leans in just slightly—close enough that Mina can smell her perfume, something clean and subtle. Her voice drops, warm and teasing. “Hopefully by then,” she adds, “you’ll remember what you wanted to collaborate on. And what product management actually is. You know, since that’s the floor that I work on.”

Mina’s brain short-circuits completely. “I—yeah—definitely,” she squeaks.

Momo smiles like she’s won something. “I’ll see you around, Mina.”

And just like that, she turns and walks away—unbothered, unhurried, devastating. Mina stands there, stunned.

What the fuck just happened?

She barely registers Chaeyoung and Nayeon approaching until Chaeyoung is right in front of her. Mina whips around. “Chaeyoung—what the fuck did you just do?”

Chaeyoung blinks. “What? Did you talk to Momo?”

“Yes,” Mina hisses. “Why does she think I want to collaborate with product management?!”

“Oh,” Chaeyoung says casually. “Yeah. I gave her your work number. You’re welcome.”

“You’re insane,” Mina whispers. “What the hell is product management?”

“I don’t know,” Chaeyoung shrugs. “Some department. I was fully talking out of my ass.”

Mina stares at her in horror. “Jesus Christ.”

Nayeon cuts in, chewing on her snack. “Product management?” She scoffs. “That floor is boring as hell. That’s where Momo works?”

“Apparently,” Chaeyoung says. “But hey—company’s huge. She’ll call you. You’ll figure it out.”

Mina looks like she might combust. Nayeon laughs, delighted. “Wow. This Momo girl really has you that flustered?”

“She’s hot,” Chaeyoung adds. “Like. Really hot.”

Nayeon hums. “Alright, alright. Come on. Let’s sit down and get through this damn meeting.”

They head back to their seats, but Mina barely hears anything anymore. Her heart won’t slow down. Her face still burns.

What the hell did they just drag me into?

——-

Momo finally drops into her seat, stretching back like she owns the place, a lazy grin tugging at her lips. If anyone looked closely, they’d see the faint pink dusting her cheeks—but no one ever looks closely enough to call her out on it.

God, this morning was good today.

In the three years at this company, she’s never been this entertained. Her floor is a wasteland of spreadsheets, married coworkers, and dudes who think “business casual” means cargo pants. Today, though? Today had spark.

She tilts her head back, biting down on a laugh as the memory replays—Mina’s wide eyes, the way she froze like a startled deer, the soft stammering. Cute didn’t even begin to cover it.

“You done mentally undressing someone, or should I come back later?”

Momo cracks one eye open. It’s her friend Jeongyeon. Of course.

“I wasn’t undressing anyone,” Momo says breezily. “I was appreciating.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t even look at her, arms crossed, posture perfect, eyes forward like the meeting slides are the most important thing in the world. “Your face says otherwise. You’ve got that dumb look.”

“That’s just my face.”

“No,” Jeongyeon replies flatly. “That’s your crushing face.”

Momo scoffs. “I don’t crush.”

Jeongyeon finally turns her head, unimpressed. “You crushed on a barista because she spelled your Surname right.”

“That was emotional intimacy.”

Jeongyeon snorts. Momo sighs dramatically, slumping a little. “Okay, fine. I met someone this morning.”

“I know.”

Momo blinks. “You know?”

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot ever since you sat down” Jeongyeon says. “And you let a meeting start without complaining. That’s not normal.”

Momo clicks her tongue. “Rude.”

“And what about this person?” Jeongyeon prompts. Momo leans closer, voice dropping. “She’s cute.”

Jeongyeon’s eyebrow twitches. “That’s it?”

“She’s really cute.”

“There it is.”

Momo grins. “Shy. Pretty. Looked like she was one sentence away from passing out when I talked to her.”

Jeongyeon exhales slowly. “You traumatized another one, didn’t you?”

“I did not traumatize her,” Momo protests. “I flirted. Gently.”

Jeongyeon gives her a look. “You flirt like a wrecking ball.”

“People love wrecking balls.”

“No,” Jeongyeon deadpans. “They survive them.”

Momo laughs under her breath, glancing around the room again, half-hoping—half-dreading—to spot Mina somewhere in the crowd. No luck. A sharp pinch hits her thigh.

“Ow—what the hell?!” Momo yelps, twisting toward Jeongyeon.

“Focus,” Jeongyeon mutters. “Before you get us reported to HR.”

“For what?” Momo gasps dramatically. “Existing hotly?”

Jeongyeon sighs, deeply tired. “You’re unbearable.”

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

Momo hums, eyes drifting to Jeongyeon’s outfit like a hawk spotting prey. Her friend looks put together as always—black slacks, polished shoes—but something’s off.

“…You missed a button,” Momo says.

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Jeongyeon glances down. “…Shit.”

Momo grins, leaning over. “Hold still.”

Before Jeongyeon can protest, Momo reaches for her collar, fingers brushing fabric—and immediately gets her hand slapped away. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Fixing you,” Momo says innocently. “If you’re gonna lecture me about professionalism, at least button your shirt.”

Jeongyeon’s ears turn pink. “Do not touch me in public.”

“You pinched my thigh in public.”

“That was corrective violence.”

Momo laughs, quick and bright. “Relax. I’ve seen worse.”

Jeongyeon shoots her a warning glare but sighs anyway, turning slightly so Momo can finish buttoning the shirt. Momo’s fingers work fast, precise—and she definitely notices the way Jeongyeon stiffens.

“There,” Momo says smugly. “Presentable. You’re welcome.”

Jeongyeon clears her throat, adjusting her blazer. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” Momo replies, leaning back in her chair, satisfied, “you’d be lost without me.”

Jeongyeon shakes her head, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Across the room, the meeting drones on. And somewhere else in this building, Momo knows—feels—that Mina is probably still flustered. That thought alone makes the whole day worth it.

“—So she’s cute. That’s it? Nothing more?” Jeongyeon says it flatly, like she’s daring Momo to lie.

Momo exhales through her nose, rolling her head back against the chair. “That’s not it.”

“Oh?” Jeongyeon tilts her head. “Because you started and ended with ‘cute.'”

“That girl was—” Momo stops, frowns, searches for the word. “Beautiful. Like… painfully so.”

Jeongyeon snorts. “Oh my god.”

“No, seriously,” Momo says, still grinning, leaning back a little. “I mean, like… you just want to stare at her and die a little. And you know she had no idea what she was doing this morning.”

Jeongyeon snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. Describe it.”

Momo leans in again, lowering her voice like it’s some top-secret intel. “Okay, picture this. She’s at the snack table, right? Trying to grab her coffee. She drops her sugar packet—like, drops it on the floor—and panics instantly. You’d think the world was ending. She bends down, but before she can even grab it, I swoop in like some kind of superhero and grab it for her.”

Jeongyeon pauses. “…Wait,” she says slowly. “You approached her?”

Momo blinks. “Yeah?”

“You just… walked up to a random girl?”

Momo squints at her. “She wasn’t random, she was cute.”

Jeongyeon stares at her. “That does not answer my question.”

“It does, actually,” Momo says, sitting up straighter. “If I see a cute girl, I’m gonna talk to her.”

Jeongyeon lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re actually insane.”

“I’m not insane,” Momo scoffs. “I just go for it. I’m not a pussy.”

Jeongyeon points at her. “No, you’re an idiot. You just throw yourself into situations and hope it works out.”

Momo smirks. “And it does.”

“Barely,” Jeongyeon shoots back. “You probably scared the hell out of her. No wonder she was acting like a deer in headlights.”

Momo rolls her eyes. “She was not that scared.”

“She dropped sugar and panicked,” Jeongyeon deadpans. “She was scared probably being approached like that.”

“She was flustered,” Momo corrects, smug. “There’s a difference.”

Jeongyeon groans. “Oh my god. You’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“People who think everyone’s into them.”

Momo leans back, crossing her arms, completely unbothered. “I mean… she was.”

Jeongyeon stares at her. “You are actually unbearable.”

Momo grins. “You love me.”

“I don’t,” Jeongyeon says immediately. “I tolerate you.”

There’s a small pause. Momo’s expression shifts—just slightly. “…It was kinda weird, though,” she adds, more casually now.

Jeongyeon narrows her eyes. “What was?”

Momo shrugs, glancing away. “I don’t know. When I talked to her.”

Jeongyeon waits. Momo hesitates, then frowns a little. “It felt like… I’ve been around her before or something.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “What?”

“Not like—actually,” Momo says quickly. “I know I haven’t. I would remember her.”

Jeongyeon snorts. “Yeah. Clearly.”

“I’m serious,” Momo insists. “I’ve never met her before. But for a second it just felt… familiar.”

Jeongyeon gives her a flat look. “You need help.”

Momo glares. “I’m not crazy.”

Jeongyeon leans back, crossing her arms. “This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

“You meet a pretty girl, and suddenly it’s ‘fate’ and ‘déjà vu’ and whatever the hell else you wanna call it.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Momo argues.

“It literally was like that,” Jeongyeon says. “You just said it.”

Momo scoffs, waving her off. “Whatever. I’m just saying—it felt weird for a second. That’s it.”

Jeongyeon hums. “Sure.” Then, after a beat: “…You’re still an idiot, though.”

Momo rolls her eyes. “And you’re still jealous.” She pauses, smirking at Jeongyeon’s raised eyebrow. “But anyways, her face—Jeong, her face! Bright red, ears turning pink, eyes darting everywhere like she’s about to get caught committing a felony being with me. She’s whispering and mumbling like she’s confessing to a crime, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds like HR is about to crawl out of the copier and drag her to the manager’s office. I swear, I couldn’t stop laughing after I walked away.”

Jeongyeon knew Momo was fucking with her at this point. The story coming off of Momo’s lips with a smirk, Jeongyeon watched her carefully. “You’re gone.”

“I’m not,” Momo says quickly, cheeks warming. “I’m just saying—she was shy in conversation. Pretty. The kind of pretty that doesn’t know it.”

“Dangerous combination.”

“Exactly.” There’s a beat. “…I got her number.”

Jeongyeon’s head snaps toward her. “You what?”

Momo lifts a finger. “Work number.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “That’s still a number.”

“Barely,” Momo laughs. “But, you know. Gotta start somewhere.”

Jeongyeon stares at her, clearly impressed despite herself. “Wow. Look at you. Networking.”

Momo grins. “You wanna hear how?”

“Obviously.”

“So her colleague—” Momo shakes her head, already laughing. “We met outside the bathroom. She was talking completely out of her ass. Didn’t even know what product management was. Just saying words to me. Said her friend, the girl I had just met, mind you, wants to collaborate with someone in product management.”

Jeongyeon snorts. “That tracks. Half our department doesn’t even know what we do.” Then she pauses. “…Also, who the fuck wants to collaborate with product management?”

Momo bursts out laughing. “Exactly!”

“Our floor is boring as hell,” Jeongyeon continues. “We don’t even collaborate with each other.”

“THANK YOU,” Momo says, pointing at her. “That’s what I’m saying.” She leans forward, lowering her voice like she’s exposing a conspiracy. “And the thing is—they work in marketing.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “…That makes it worse.”

“Right??” Momo says. “Why would marketing need us like that?”

Jeongyeon squints. “They wouldn’t.”

Momo nods, smug now. “Exactly.”

A beat passes. Jeongyeon leans back, already grinning. “…So what, she was just stupid?”

Momo gives her a look. “No.” Small pause. “She was setting up her friend to me.”

Jeongyeon pauses. “…What?”

“She was setting her up,” Momo repeats, like it’s obvious. “Like, clearly. She gave me her work number, started talking nonsense, then dipped. That wasn’t accidental.”

Jeongyeon stares at her. “You think her friend orchestrated a whole setup?”

“Yes,” Momo says immediately. “Because she did.”

Jeongyeon squints. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not fake,” Momo argues. “It was obvious.”

Jeongyeon leans back, unimpressed. “Or—and hear me out—you’re being weird.”

Momo scoffs. “I’m not being weird.”

“You are,” Jeongyeon says. “You met a girl at the snack table and now suddenly it’s a conspiracy, that her friends are setting you guys up?”

“It’s not a conspiracy,” Momo shoots back. “Her friend literally handed me her work number and ran.”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon deadpans. “Because that’s a normal thing people do. It’s called networking, even if it’s a bit odd.”

Momo opens her mouth—then stops. “…Anyways,” she says quickly, waving it off. “Mina—”

Jeongyeon’s head snaps up. “Mina?”

Momo freezes for half a second. “…Yeah,” she says, trying to play it cool. “That’s her name.”

Jeongyeon’s eyes narrow immediately. “Oh, so now we’re using names.”

“I just—she told me her name when we met at the snack table,” Momo says, a little too fast. “I’m just saying it because—because it’s her name.”

Jeongyeon smirks. “Uh-huh.”

Momo looks away, muttering, “It’s a cute name.”

Jeongyeon lets out a short laugh. “You’re so gone.”

“I am not gone,” Momo snaps. “I just met her today.”

Jeongyeon raises a brow. “And already decided her friend staged an elaborate meet up with you.”

“It wasn’t elaborate!” Momo protests. “It was just—obvious!”

Jeongyeon shakes her head. “Yeah. Sure. Totally not delusional behavior.”

Momo glares at her. “I’m not delusional.”

Jeongyeon scoffs. “Excuse you? After the bullshit you told me about last week?”

Momo’s face heats instantly. “I was not delusional about that. I told you what happened at that club.”

“You told me a story.”

“If you had come with me that night, you literally would’ve seen it,” Momo argues. “I’m telling you, there was a hole in that bathroom wall. A glory hole.”

Jeongyeon clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Are you insane???”

“I’m just saying—”

“Not here,” Jeongyeon hisses. “Jesus.”

Momo lowers her voice, flustered now. “Look, I know how it sounds. But it happened. I was drunk, yeah, but not that drunk.”

Jeongyeon shakes her head slowly. “Momo… you were so drunk you went into the men’s bathroom.”

Momo freezes. “…Okay, first of all—”

“Don’t ‘first of all’ me,” Jeongyeon cuts in. “You walked into the wrong bathroom, stayed there, and now you’re telling me there was a glory hole?”

“I didn’t realize it was the men’s until I was already inside the stall!” Momo snaps, defensive. “And nobody said anything! Everyone was drunk. It’s a club, Jeongyeon, not a courtroom.”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon says flatly. “Because everyone else was minding their business.”

Momo throws her hands up. “Exactly! So it wasn’t a big deal.”

“No,” Jeongyeon shoots back, pointing at her. “It is a big deal. Because you were drunk, in the wrong bathroom, making terrible decisions like that’s your full-time job.”

Momo glares. “I was not making terrible decisions.”

“You ended up supposedly at a random hole in a wall,” Jeongyeon deadpans. “That is literally the definition of a terrible decision.”

Momo scoffs. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m realistic,” Jeongyeon fires back. “You get drunk, wander off, and then come back with the craziest story I’ve ever heard, and you expect me to just—what—nod and be like, ‘yeah, sounds legit’?”

“It was legit!” Momo insists. “I know what I experienced.”

Jeongyeon stares at her for a long second. “…You’re unbelievable.”

Momo throws her hands up. “Oh my god. You’re missing the point. Hole in the wall. Happened. End of story.”

“Momo,” Jeongyeon says, rubbing her temple. “I believe you believe it. But not at that place. That sounds like something out of a porno. Do you even remember who it was on the other side?”

Momo glares at her. “It’s a glory hole. How the hell would I know? I’m just saying—it happened. I’m not delusional.”

Jeongyeon stares at her for a long second. “…You went into the men’s bathroom.”

Momo crosses her arms. “And I stand by everything I said.”

Jeongyeon lets out a long sigh. “Okay… fine. But you made sure you got tested, right? You didn’t… catch anything?”

Momo rolls her eyes, though a small smirk plays at her lips. “Of course. I got tested. I’m clean. All clear. Nothing to worry about.”

Jeongyeon shakes her head, exasperated. “Good. I just… I don’t know how you even survive these things sometimes.”

Momo shrugs. “I’m a survivor.”

Jeongyeon stares at her for a second. “…You watch too much porn.”

Momo gasps. “You take that back. You’re the one with the porn problem.”

Jeongyeon’s face flushes instantly. “Shut up.”

Momo grins wider. “Oh my god. You do.”

Jeongyeon lifts her foot and stomps down hard on Momo’s. “Pay attention to the meeting before you get us fucking fired.”

Momo yelps, biting back a laugh. “Okay, okay—damn. Also, you’re not even into hookup culture like that anyway, so what the fuck would you know?”

Jeongyeon glares. “I’ve done hookups.”

“Yeah,” Momo teases, “but maybe you lost your motion.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Momo shrugs, smirking. “I’m just saying. I’m open to dating. Like, a relationship. I’m doing fine. I’m well off.”

Jeongyeon rolls her eyes. “Bullshit. All that confidence is just you hiding how much of a horndog you are.”

Momo laughs, unbothered. “Sure, sure. And you’re the one with the porn addiction.”

Jeongyeon opens her mouth to argue, then snaps it shut, muttering, “We’re both idiots.”

Momo leans back in her chair, grin lingering—mind, annoyingly, drifting right back to the thought of Mina. In a daze, Momo could feel the excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach, a jittery, almost electric feeling she hadn’t experienced in a while. God, she couldn’t wait for this meeting to end.

Every passing second felt like it dragged, but the thought kept replaying in her mind—she was definitely going to call that girl. She knew that the moment she got back to her cubicle, she was dialing. No hesitations, no second-guessing.

She just had to hear her voice again.