Chapter 4

I dropped onto the bed, letting my head fall back against the pillows. a faint scent of lavender wafted up, of course. He really went all out with the "girly" theme. I didn't know whether to be touched or offended.

Was this his way of mocking me?

Or..... was it something else?

My phone buzzed beside me, yanking me from my spiraling thoughts. A message from dad.

"don't kill anyone on your first day. Be nice." - Dad

I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone aside. Too late for that advice.

Before I could fully sink into overthinking mode again, a soft knock came from the other side of the door.

I sat up instantly, heart doing an unnecessary flip.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"Room service," came Ryan's sarcastic reply.

Ugh. Of course.

I opened the door just a crack. He stood there, leaning against the frame, holding a pink box.

"You forgot your dessert," he said, eyes glinting mischievously.

I opened the door fully, narrowing my eyes. "Didn't realize you were also the dessert delivery guy."

"No, but i do enjoy watching people squirm," he said with a shrug, holding out the box. "Especially when they're trying to act all innocent after flirting with my dad."

My fingers curled around the edge of the door.

"For the last time," I hissed, "I wasn't flirting with anyone."

He smirked, lowering his voice. "Sure. Just like I'm a nun."

I yanked the box from his hands. "Thank you for the dessert. You can leave now."

He didn't budge.

"You're funny when you're mad," he said casually. "like a rabbit trying to act like a tiger."

I stepped out of my room, getting in his face.

"keep pushing, and I swear i'll show you how sharp a rabbit's bite can be."

He grinned and not in a mocking way this time. "Now that's the attitude i like."

"Anyway," he said, "I'm not here to fight. just wanted to say..." he hesitated, surprising me. "I was out of line earlier. Sorry."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Don't make me say it twice. My pride's already bruised."

I stared at him, unsure whether this was another one of his games.

He turned, walking back down the hallway. I stepped back into the room, closed the door, and stared at the dessert box like it held a secret. I placed it on the table and peeled the lid open.

Inside was a single slice of strawberry cake.

Pink, of course.

A tiny note sat beside it:

"If you hate pink so much, why does it suit you so well?" - Ryan

I laughed.

Laughed like an idiot alone in my very pink room.

Maybe he wasn't completely terrible.

Maybe..... just maybe, living here wouldn't be as hard as I thought.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that both Ryan and Mr. Kim were going to be trouble. Different kinds of trouble, perhaps. But trouble all the same.

---

The morning sun crept through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. I blinked a few times before sitting up slowly, realizing the scent of fresh toast and eggs was already wafting into my room.

Mr. Kim. Cooking again?

For a man with such a dangerous smile, he sure acted like a soft domestic hero from a drama. And I hated how easily that idea popped into my head.

I pulled myself out of bed, lazily brushed my hair and threw on an oversized hoodie before stepping out. The hallway was quiet, no sign of Ryan's snarky face. Fortunately.

When I entered the kitchen, Mr. Kim was by the stove, humming to himself in a deep, melodic tone. The back of his shirt clung slightly to his frame and I immediately looked away.

Stop looking. Stop thinking. Just say good morning and run.

"Morning," I mumbled.

He turned, flashing a warm smile that hit me like sunlight.

"Good morning, Iris. Hope you slept well?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Surprisingly well..... despite the pink."

He chuckled. "I'll talk to Ryan about the room."

I laughed, leaning against the counter. "It's okay. I think I'm getting used to it. Slowly."

"Good," he said, flipping a pancake onto a plate.

"I--"

"Morning, lovebirds," Ryan’s voice drifted in as he strolled into the room with a lazy yawn. His hair was already styled, his shirt half-buttoned, and he wore a pair of baggy jeans. He didn’t look like someone who had just woken up, more like he was already prepared to take on the day.

"Didn’t mean to interrupt your little domestic fantasy."

I immediately stepped away from the counter. "We weren't--- It's not like that."

Mr. Kim cleared his throat and turned back to the stove, his voice a little too even. "Ryan, you're late. Breakfast's almost ready."

"Perfect," he said, flopping into a chair and smirking at me. "Because I had a wild dream last night."

"Should I be worried?" I muttered, pouring myself water.

"Maybe. You were in it."

I froze mid sip. "Excuse me?"

He grinned. "Yeah. You were chasing me with a knife because I painted your room pink, screaming something about 'justice for pastel victims.' Very traumatic. I might need therapy."

I rolled my eyes. "You definitely need therapy, but not for that."

Mr. Kim chuckled under his breath. "She's not wrong."

Ryan shrugged dramatically. "Anyway, I've decided to be nice today. Truce?"

He extended a hand toward me across the table.

I looked at it suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I just figured... if we're going to live under the same roof, we should try not to kill each other before lunch."

I slowly shook his hand. "Fine. Truce."

"And who knows," he added with a wicked grin, "maybe one day you'll thank me for the pink room. It suits you more than you admit."

I rolled my eyes again but couldn't stop the faint smile from curling at my lips.

Mr. Kim placed the plates in front of us and sat down across from me. As I picked up my fork, his gaze lingered a moment too long on me. I glanced at him and our eyes met.

For a second, the house grew silent. Our eyes locked. something unspoken passed between us, a strange, heated understanding that neither of us wanted to admit. then he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

His were warm again, too warm.

I looked away quickly and shoved a bite of pancake into my mouth.

This house might be warm and cozy.

But with Mr. Kim under the same roof?

I was in a serious danger of falling.

"Oh shit! Dad, I’m getting late....."Ryan suddenly jumped off his chair, his eyes darting to his wristwatch. He gulped down a big sip of milk, grabbed one toast between his teeth and another in his hand, already halfway out of his seat.

"Bye, Dad! And see you later Pink Pumpkin."

Before I could even respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with his dad.

I glanced at Mr. Kim and caught him looking at me, a faint hint of concern etched across his face.

"Don’t mind him. He’s always like this."

His voice was calm, almost reassuring and surprisingly, it worked. I smiled, shaking my head lightly. This time, though, I chose to stay quiet instead of blurting out more nonsense like I already had.

Silence settled between us again, thick and uncomfortable. I focused on my breakfast, trying not to make it obvious how awkward and nervous I felt under his presence. And the reason I can't even disclose.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, clearly noticing how I avoided his gaze.

"Huh? Nothing....." I replied quickly, pretending not to understand what he meant.

But the moment my eyes met his, I looked away again as if I were guilty of something.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

My heart almost stopped for a second because the very next second, he scoffed.

He SCOFFED as if he could read every single one of my forbidden thoughts.

To be continued