The rain was steady, falling in thin sheets that blurred the glow of the streetlamps. The city always looked tired at night—umbrellas bobbing in the crowd, water rushing into drains, neon lights reflecting in puddles. You made your way toward Mincheol’s office, the handle of your umbrella cold in your hand. He’d been working late for weeks, and though your body ached from your own jobs, a small part of you wanted to surprise him. To walk home together, even if it was just for a few blocks.

The office building came into view, tall windows lit against the dark sky. You waited quietly across the street, the rain tapping softly against the top of your umbrella. Then the glass doors opened, and there he was—Kang Mincheol. Except he wasn’t alone.

A young woman, her voice bright even over the patter of rain, clung to his arm. Her laughter spilled out, careless and warm, the kind that stung because you hadn’t heard it from him in so long. She pressed close against him, and his posture wasn’t stiff or resistant—it was familiar, like this wasn’t the first time.

You froze, the chill of the rain creeping into your bones. The umbrella suddenly felt too heavy. He hadn’t seen you yet, and for a moment, you considered turning back, disappearing before he could catch sight of you. But the woman tugged at him, and Mincheol’s eyes lifted from the pavement—landing right on you.

His face shifted instantly. Shock, then irritation. He muttered something to the woman, quickly prying her off his arm. She looked confused, almost offended, but he forced a strained smile and said lowly, “She’s… family. Don’t worry about it.”

Family.

The word sliced through you sharper than the rain.

The woman blinked, unconvinced, but he waved her off. “I’ll call you later,” he murmured, already moving toward you.

You stood there in silence as he approached, the woman lingering behind for only a moment before she disappeared into the crowd. By the time Mincheol was standing beside you, his brows were knit together tightly, his jaw clenched.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, low, meant not to draw attention but to cut you directly. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for you to just show up like this?”

The rain drummed between you. You said nothing, fingers tightening on the umbrella handle.

“I was busy,” he snapped, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “You don’t need to come running after me like some lost puppy. I can walk home by myself.” His tone was cold, annoyed, as if you were the one in the wrong.

He didn’t even acknowledge the girl. Didn’t acknowledge what you’d just seen. Instead, he stepped forward, forcing you to move with him as if nothing had happened.

The walk home was quiet except for the sound of water splashing under passing cars. He didn’t bother to take the umbrella from you, didn’t care that the rain still slipped down the side of your coat where it didn’t reach. His irritation clung heavier than the storm itself.

Finally, as the apartment came into view, he muttered under his breath, “Next time, just stay home. Don’t make things harder than they already are.”

The words settled like lead. You stayed silent, carrying the umbrella above the both of you while his steps led the way back into the shadows of your shared life—one you weren’t sure was still yours at all.