You meet Officer Han Jisung on the worst day of your year.

Not because you’re doing anything particularly dramatic—no car crash, no robbery, not even a speeding ticket. Just a spilled coffee, a missed train, and a torn hem on your skirt that refuses to stay pinned. You’re crouched on the subway platform, trying to fix it, when a voice behind you says, “Ma’am, do you need assistance?”

You look up, expecting condescension, maybe a smirk.

Instead, you see a young officer with soft eyes, messy hair that no amount of regulation gel could fully tame, and a slight tilt to his mouth like he’s holding back either a laugh or a genuine question. Maybe both.

“I’m good,” you mutter, but he crouches anyway, producing a safety pin from his pocket like a magician.

“I have a six-year-old,” he says as he fastens your skirt back together with practiced ease. “You learn to carry weird things.”

You’re halfway through thanking him when the announcement comes: train delay—thirty minutes. He groans, and without thinking, you ask, “Aren’t cops supposed to be patient?”

He grins, teeth showing now. “I’m a dad before I’m a cop. Patience expired somewhere around year three.”

You end up sitting beside him on the bench, half out of boredom, half out of the curiosity his presence stirs. He introduces himself as Han Jisung, Seoul Metropolitan Police, Traffic Division. You introduce yourself, and before you know it, the train’s arriving and you’ve missed most of your irritation somewhere between the coffee spill and his story about trying to braid his son’s hair for a school play.

The second time you meet him, it’s coincidence. Or fate. Or some meddling kid’s idea of matchmaking.

You’re in the park, reading on a bench, when a soccer ball hits your leg and a little boy with two missing teeth barrels toward you.

“I’m sorry!” he yells, breathless. “Appa says I have to say sorry if I hit anyone.”

“That’s very responsible,” you say, handing him the ball.

“Thanks! I’m Minjae!”

You freeze. The name sounds familiar.

“Minjae!” a voice calls out from across the field. You turn, and there he is again. Officer Han Jisung, in plain clothes this time, jogging toward you with a familiar crooked smile.

You blink. “You again?”

He laughs. “I swear I’m not following you.”