sometimes the terrifying truth of a situation arrives in the form of your best friend.
Monday morning arrives carrying consequences. Minjeong should have known better. Not about bringing him to the gala, but about thinking she'd get away with it. By nine-thirty, she had already reviewed two contracts, responded to twenty-seven emails, and survived a conference call that should have been illegal.
Everything felt normal.
That should’ve been her first warning sign.
At nine-thirty-seven, there was a knock at her office door.
"Come in."
One of the firm's associates stepped inside, carrying a folder and greeted Minjeong. Normally there wasn’t much time for chit-chat; she brought the folders and left. Today, she hesitated.
Minjeong immediately became suspicious.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No."
A long silence lingered between them. Minjeong looked down at the paperwork, deciding to ignore whatever was actually happening.
"Your date was very handsome."
Minjeong froze.
Very slowly, she looked up from the paperwork in front of her.
"Excuse me?"
The associate immediately looked delighted that she'd gotten a reaction.
"The man from the gala."
"There was no man from the gala."
The associate blinked.
"Minjeong."
"There was no date."
"You arrived together."
"We shared a car."
"You left together."
"We shared a car."
"You fixed his tie."
Minjeong stared; the associate stared back. Neither blinked until Minjeong eventually broke the silence.
"What’s your point?"
The associate folded her arms.
"People who are just carsharing don’t normally fix each other's appearance."
Minjeong looked offended.
"This proves absolutely nothing."
"It proves several things."
"It proves he doesn't know how to tie a tie."
"Minjeong."
"What?"
"You've worked here twelve years and never brought anyone to a single event."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"Was he at least nice?"
Minjeong hesitated.
A fatal mistake.
The associate immediately gasped.
"Oh my God."
"Stop."
"You like him."
"I do not."
"You just paused."
"Conjecture."
"Stop lawyering me."
"We’re literally both lawyers."
The associate looked entirely too pleased with herself.
Minjeong hated that expression; it was unnerving. She pointed toward the door.
“Get out.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
“I don’t recall there being a question.”
The associate leaned forward conspiratorially.
“How old is he?”
Minjeong nearly choked.
“What?”
“The man.”
“Why would I answer that?”
The associate's eyes widened immediately.
“Oh my God.”
“No.”
“Oh my God.”
“Stop talking.”
“Younger?”
Minjeong stared.
The associate stared back.
Then slowly smiled.
“Much younger.”
“Leave.”
“Kim Minjeong has a younger man.”
“Please stop talking and leave my office.”
The associate finally laughed and stepped backward toward the door. “Fine. Fine.” She paused with her hand on the handle, turning to wink at Minjeong. “Have a nice day, Milfjeong.”
Then disappeared before Minjeong could throw something at her.
As the door clicked shut, silence settled across the office. Minjeong stared at the paperwork across her desk before glancing at her phone. A notification waited there. One unread message. Him.
goooood morning Miss Kim 😌
Minjeong stared at the message, then immediately hated the fact she was smiling.
By eight o'clock that evening, Minjeong had officially given up pretending she was going to do any more work. A half-finished glass of red wine sat on the coffee table between her and Yizhuo while Manhattan glowed beyond the apartment windows. Somewhere in the kitchen, takeout containers occupied an embarrassing amount of counter space.
“You realise,” Yizhuo said, curled into the corner of the sofa, “that this is exactly how people behave right before they realise they’ve accidentally fallen in love.”
Minjeong nearly choked on her wine.
“Ning.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
“Never.”
Yizhuo took another sip of wine.
“You know, I never thought you’d be the type that smiles at her phone.”
“I do not smile at my phone, don’t be ridiculous.”
“You literally smiled at your phone four times while ordering dinner, but sure, you tell yourself that.”
“This is slander.”
“You’re not going to talk your way out of this one, you know that doesn’t work with me.”
Minjeong sank further into the sofa.
“He is not my boyfriend.”
“Mhm.”
“He isn't.”
“Mhm.”
“You're actually so annoying.”
“I know, it’s one of my best attributes.”
The intercom buzzed, making both women pause and glance towards the hallway.
It buzzed again.
Slowly, Yizhuo's eyes widened.
“Oh my God.”
“Ning, no.”
“Ning, yes.”
“Stop.”
“Is it him?”
“It could be literally anyone.”
“So you just randomly have people ringing your intercom during the evening? I don’t think so.”
Minjeong hated how tight her chest felt all of a sudden.
The intercom buzzed for a third time.
Yizhuo was practically vibrating now.
“You have to answer it.”
“I know how intercoms work.”
“Put it on speaker.”
“No.”
“Pussy.”
Minjeong rolled her eyes before pressing the button.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice crackled softly through the speaker.
“Hey.”
Immediately, Yizhuo made a completely silent screaming motion from the sofa.
Minjeong pointed a warning finger at her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was nearby.”
“You live in Queens.”
Yizhuo fell sideways into a cushion trying not to laugh.
“Okay, so I’m lying, sue me.”
Minjeong closed her eyes.
“Why are you here?”
There was a brief pause.
“I brought cheesecake.”
Silence.
“You brought cheesecake?” Minjeong repeated.
“Uhm, I panicked.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I wasn't sure if showing up unannounced was charming or weird.”
“Right.”
“So I bought cheesecake.”
On the sofa, Yizhuo was now openly making heart shapes with her hands. Minjeong considered ending the call immediately. Instead, she heard herself ask, “What kind of cheesecake?”
The victory in his laugh was instant. “If you let me come upstairs, I could show you?"
Yizhuo's eyes widened so dramatically that Minjeong briefly considered hanging up the intercom and pretending the entire conversation never happened.
“Cheesecake?” Yizhuo mouths.
Minjeong pointed another warning finger at her, which Yizhuo responded to by making a heart shape with both hands.
A nervous laugh crackled through the speaker.
“So... is that a yes?”
Minjeong closed her eyes briefly.
“Come up.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Minjeong regretted everything. She loved Yizhuo. She liked him. Having them in a room together felt suspiciously similar to introducing two natural disasters.
The sound of victory in his voice pulled Minjeong from her thoughts.
“See you in a minute, Miss Kim.”
The line disconnects, leaving Minjeong to face whatever atrocious comment she knew Yizhuo was about to make.
“You know, I was always under the impression that you had higher standards for which men you let into your apartment. But hey, I’m not here to judge if cheesecake is all it takes. Personally, I prefer wine.”
The knock came barely thirty seconds later. Somehow, Yizhuo had already managed to cross the room and was standing by the door.
“Ning.”
“What?” she said innocently.
“You are not greeting him.”
“I wasn't planning to greet him.”
“You absolutely were.”
The door swung open, and immediately, Yizhuo understood everything. For a moment, nobody said anything. He stood there holding an absurdly expensive-looking cheesecake box, tuxedo long gone in favour of dark jeans and a black sweater, looking slightly nervous despite the easy smile on his face. It was the kind of nervousness that only appeared when someone genuinely cared what the person on the other side of the door thought of them.
The kind of nervousness that only appeared when someone genuinely cared what the person on the other side of the door thought of them.
“Oh,” Yizhuo said.
Minjeong narrowed her eyes.
“Oh?”
Yizhuo pointed dramatically at him.
“No, you know what? I totally get it.”
“Ning.”
“I get it.”
“Ning.”
“I understand everything now.”
He immediately starts laughing.
Minjeong closed her eyes.
“Please stop.”
“I can't.” Yizhuo pressed a hand over her heart. “This is actually very validating for me.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you've spent three weeks acting like you've completely lost your mind over some mysterious younger man from Queens.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have, but that’s okay,” Yizhuo turned back to look at him. “Respectfully, this is the most sense Kim Minjeong has made in years.”
“Ning, shut up.”
“No, seriously. I get it now.”
“Oh my God.”
“I thought she was having some kind of age-related crisis.”
“Ning.”
“I did!” Yizhuo pointed at Minjeong. “Do you know how concerning it is when Kim Minjeong starts staring into space and smiling at nothing?”
“I don't do that.”
“You most definitely do,” Yizhuo turned back toward him. “I was expecting a walking disaster. A man with a podcast, a walking red flag. A man who says things like 'crypto is the future’.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Instead...” Yizhuo gestured vaguely toward him. “Yeah. I totally get it.”
Minjeong felt herself physically ageing.
“Ning.”
“What?”
“You've known him for four seconds.”
“Yes, and I have eyes.”
He looked increasingly amused.
“This isn't helping my case, is it?” he asked.
“No,” Yizhuo said immediately. “You're actually making it significantly worse.”
“Traitor,” Minjeong muttered.
“Please. The second I saw him, I understood why you've been acting insane.”
“I have not been acting insane.”
He and Yizhuo exchange a look. And unfortunately for Minjeong, the shared look is somehow worse than anything that had been said to that point.
“Oh, she's definitely been acting insane,” Yizhuo said.
“Good to know it's not just me.”
Minjeong pointed toward the living room.
“Both of you. Inside.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Yizhuo said immediately.
“What?” Minjeong asked, confused.
Yizhuo reached out and plucked the cheesecake box directly from his hands.
“Thank you.”
He looked down at his now-empty hands.
“...You're welcome?”
“Ning.”
“No.” Yizhuo shook her head firmly. “I've seen enough.”
“You've been standing here for thirty seconds.”
“And yet I've learned everything I need to know.”
Minjeong narrowed her eyes as Yizhuo tucked the cheesecake box under one arm like a prized possession.
“You like him, he likes you, and I am not third-wheeling pretending to watch television while the two of you make increasingly prolonged eye contact across the coffee table.”
Minjeong nearly choked.
“We are not going to-”
“Please.” Yizhuo scoffed. “I wasn't born yesterday.”
Yizhuo reached for her coat.
“Besides, I have plans.”
“You don't have plans.”
“I do now.”
“Ning.”
Yizhuo paused at the door before turning back one final time.
“Also,” she said thoughtfully, “if either of you break the coffee table tonight, I think it would be polite to replace it.”
Silence.
Minjeong stared.
He stared.
Yizhuo grinned.
“Ning.”
“What?”
“Get out.”
“I'm going.”
She opened the door, then paused again.
“Actually, one more thing.” Yizhuo pointed at him. “If you hurt her, I'll kill you.”
His smile softened slightly.
“Noted.”
Yizhuo nodded once then pointed at Minjeong.
“And if you emotionally self-sabotage this because you're terrified of being happy, I'll kill you too. Slowly.”
“Ning.”
“Okay, bye now lovers!”
And with that, she disappeared into the hallway carrying the entire cheesecake.
The door to the apartment clicked shut. A silence settled over the room. A long one.
Slowly he looked down at his empty hands.
“She stole my cheesecake.”
Minjeong pressed a hand over her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Should I be offended?”
“You should be grateful.”
He laughed softly.
“She’s absolutely terrifying.”
Minjeong finally looked at him.
“Told you.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “But I think I understand you a little better now.”
A reluctant smile pulled at Minjeong's mouth.
Across the room, he was still standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, dark sweater slightly rumpled from the evening. Looking entirely too comfortable in her apartment. Looking at her. Again.
Minjeong narrowed her eyes immediately.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
His smile softened.
“I missed you.”
The words landed so casually that for a second Minjeong genuinely thought she'd imagined them. Then her brain caught up. Oh. Oh.
“You can't just say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It absolutely is.”
His grin widened.
God.
Minjeong hated how much she liked that grin.
“You asked why I was here.”
“I did not.”
“You were about to.”
“I wasn't.”
“You definitely were.”
Minjeong folded her arms.
“Fine.”
His expression immediately turned victorious.
“Why are you here?”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Because I missed you.”
God, there it was again. No teasing. No dramatic performance. Just honesty. And something about the sincerity with which he said those words made Minjeong look away first - a fatal mistake, because the second she broke eye contact she became painfully aware of how hard her heart was beating.
“You saw me two days ago.”
“Longest two days of my life, I thought I might die.”
“You’re so annoying,” she scoffed.
Neither of them looked particularly convinced by her reaction.
“You know,” he said eventually, stepping a little closer, “for someone who's very good at talking, you go weirdly quiet whenever I say nice things.”
“No I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I don't.”
“You're doing it right now.”
Minjeong folded arms across her chest, already regretting allowing him upstairs. Regretting it in the same way she'd regretted inviting him to the gala, or giving him her number, or letting him stay the night. Not because she actually regretted any of it, but because she liked all of it far too much.
Minjeong glanced up from her coffee. Across the kitchen island, he was sitting on one of the stools wearing an old sweatshirt she'd tossed at him earlier, sleeves pushed up to his forearms as he peeled a banana he’d picked out of the fruit bowl minutes earlier.
“You know,” he murmured again, entirely too pleased with himself, “for someone who spent weeks pretending she wasn't interested in me, you spend a suspicious amount of time letting me sleep in your bed.”
Minjeong took a slow sip of coffee.
“You say that like you've been invited repeatedly.”
His grin widened.
“Have I not?”
“You invited yourself last night.”
“Mm.” He took a bite of the banana. “And yet nobody stopped me. Actually, I think you were quite enjoying the bedroom activ-”
“Please stop talking,” Minjeong interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.
His grin only widened.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You never deny it.”
Minjeong lowered her coffee cup slowly.
“Excuse me?”
“The accusations.” He pointed vaguely with the banana. “You always tell me to stop talking. You never actually tell me I’m wrong.”
“That’s because correcting every ridiculous thing you say would become a full-time job.”
“Sure Minjeong, sure,” He replied, looking entirely unconvinced.
Minjeong hated that look.
“What?” she asked flatly.
“Nothing.”
“You're smiling.”
“I’m always smiling.”
“You're being particularly obnoxious about it.”
His laugh filled the kitchen. Warm, easy, far too familiar.
For a moment, Minjeong simply watched him. The oversized sweatshirt hanging loosely from his frame. The way he'd somehow made himself completely at home in her apartment without ever asking permission.
Then he caught her staring. Immediately.
“Ah,” he said, pointing the banana at her. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“That look.”
Minjeong narrowed her eyes.
“What look?”
“The one where you realise you like me.”
“Finish your breakfast.”
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