Ashley woke with a jolt.For a second, she didn't know where she was. The sunlight pierced through the thin slits in the curtains, casting long, diagonal lines across the bedspread. Her eyes darted to the clock on the nightstand. 8:03 a.m. Her chest tightened.She gasped under her breath, already throwing the covers aside.She hadn't meant to fall asleep—let alone sleep that deeply. Her body must've given out the moment she lay down the night before. The exhaustion had been waiting in her bones, creeping in unnoticed. But today wasn't a day she could afford to start late.Today, she was going back to work.In a blur, she rushed through her morning routine—washing up, changing into a soft blouse and slacks, applying quick makeup, brushing her hair back into a neat ponytail. It was all mechanical, muscle memory taking over as her thoughts tried to stay focused.By the time she was slipping her watch onto her wrist, her throat felt unbearably dry. She headed to the kitchen, intending onl
“I really, really, really want something warm right now… I know I’ve only been here a few days, but I miss sundubu-jjigae a lot,” Sharon said, her voice a little shy. “Would you be the one to make it? I can only manage this.” She let out a small, awkward laugh.Ashley glanced at the pan in front of the girl—it was instant dak galbi. She recognized it right away from its torn packaging that was scattered carelessly around the stove.She gave a faint nod. “I can make it. I’ll cook it for you.”Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked to the kitchen shelves behind them, beginning to pull out the specific spices and ingredients for the stew Sharon had asked for.After that, the kitchen only filled with soft sounds of simmering broth and utensils moving. Make it feel more like a stage than a place of comfort. The act of sharing a space with Sharon was hard enough. So having to cook beside that girl, speak to that girl, match that girl’s rhythm—it was unbearable for Ashley. Ev
Ashley stayed still, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, as if unsure whether her body would let her rise or just betray her by crumpling again. The silence between her and Sharon hung in the air like fog—awkward, tentative, pressing.She hadn't expected Sharon to enter the room, much less with that expression on her face: not smug, not accusatory, but almost painfully gentle. It made Ashley feel off-balance. She couldn’t bring herself to lash out. Not when the girl standing before her looked so careful with her words, so considerate with her tone.Ashley felt disarmed. Sharon’s politeness, her delicate concern, left no room for the kind of reaction Ashley’s chest had been burning to release. There was no safe place to put her anger, and every instinct told her that if she exploded now, she’d only appear cruel—irrational. Worse, Josh would find a reason to throw that back in her face later.So she swallowed it all.With a breath that sounded heavier than it should have, Ashley fin
Ashley hadn’t returned to their bedroom that night. She slept in the guest room, buried beneath a stiff blanket that barely offered warmth. The air in that room felt heavier than the memory of what had just happened between her and Josh upstairs—something impulsive, dangerous, and far beyond what either of them had intended. But every few minutes, she shifted restlessly. Her heart was pounding from flashes of memory that kept replaying behind her closed eyes.She can't sleep. Her mind was too scrambled to calm down after what she had just done—flirting with Josh, almost giving herself to someone she now considered the enemy. She no longer knew whether she was frustrated because it had been such a foolish, humiliating thing to do, or because of the leftover desire that still clung to her body in a way that made no sense. Her thoughts, her emotions, and the tension still lingering in the most sensitive parts of her made her restless, made sleep feel even more out of reach.It wasn’t u
Ashley’s breath caught mid-motion. Something inside her had snapped back into focus—like being yanked from a dream just as she was about to fall deeper. Her hands, once curled loosely on Josh’s shoulders, stiffened. Then, with subtle insistence, she pushed against him.Josh froze. His lips stopped just short of her jawline, his breath still warm against her skin, his hands hovering in place as if unsure what he was allowed to hold onto. He felt her body twist beneath him, not with the invitation of earlier, but with a quiet urgency—tight, tense, almost panicked. She was no longer responding; she was retreating.Her palms pressed firmer now, guiding him away from her with the kind of resistance that couldn’t be misread. Josh instinctively lifted his upper body, pulling back just enough to ease the pressure of his weight. Confusion flashed across his face, followed closely by something that looked like disappointment, maybe even hurt. His brows furrowed as he searched her face for expla
There were so many layers to that exchange—so much weight carried in such few words. Staying. Seeing. Surviving. They were no longer pretending things had not broken. But maybe, in their own fractured way, they were starting to find the courage to rebuild from whatever remained.Josh gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, slow and reverent. It wasn’t romantic in the polished sense—it was raw, honest, almost desperate in its tenderness. As if apologizing for every time he’d failed to offer this kind of softness before.Ashley didn’t speak. Her eyes were half-closed, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. For the first time in what felt like years, her body had stopped bracing. The armor was off. The readiness to run or fight or collapse was gone. She just... existed, there in his arms, for the sake of being.It was a kind of intimacy they hadn’t known before. Not the surface-level spark. Not the rush. But the quiet aftermath of chaos, th