Jul hadn’t meant to sit beside another man. Not deliberately. Not spitefully. It was simply the seat offered. One chair away from the only exit, away from the gaze that had tracked her across the rooftop like heat without flame.

They laughed like old lovers. Argued over fruit like roommates. Touched without naming it. It wasn’t a relationship — not officially. But at the fruit stand, somewhere between mangoes and wine, they became something unspoken. A stranger called them “a couple.” Jul brushed it off. Han didn’t. And just like that, a shift. Quiet, undeniable. It felt easy, for once. Until it didn’t.