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.

Jul arrived flawless — satin dress, gold cuffs, soft confidence. But Han didn’t reach for her, didn’t claim her, didn’t even explain her. He just said, “This is Jul.” And in that moment, she knew. She wasn’t hidden. She was something worse — visible, but undefined. So she smiled. Because that’s what you do when pride is cracking and no one is handing you glue. But later, when she finally spoke… even Han couldn’t dodge the truth in her voice.