You take Rumis place

Meeting after meeting, you found yourself peeling back the layers of Jinu’s past, piece by delicate piece. Beneath the sharp edges and carefully built walls, you saw a man who had once been good—no, who still was good. He’d made mistakes—terrible ones—like walking away from his mother and sister. But you could see the guilt etched into him, an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders. You wanted to take it from him, wanted to see him smile without that carefully crafted mask.

Nights spent chatting under the stars, stolen midnight walks when Mira and Zoey were asleep—it had become your quiet ritual. Today, though, was different. No shadows, no secrets, no moonlit cover. This was a day meeting. Strictly business. At least… that’s what you told yourself. But it was hard not to get attached when every conversation felt so personal. You traded secrets like currency, and with each exchange, he grew more comfortable, more open, letting you see pieces of himself no one else did.

The “meeting” spot was a popular park, alive with sunlight and the gentle hum of summer. The sky stretched in flawless blue above you, and the air shimmered with heat. Jinu had returned from a nearby vendor with two paper cups of ice cream, and the two of you settled beneath the shade of an old oak tree. It was quiet—not awkward or stilted, but a peaceful, unspoken calm. Strange, you thought, for someone who was supposed to be a demon.

Jinu dipped his spoon into the melting ice cream, taking a slow bite and savoring the sweetness. His eyes stayed fixed on his cup, though every time he felt your presence beside him, something warm and fluttery twisted in his stomach. Get it together, Jinu.

Minutes passed. Normally, the silence between you was filled with teasing, laughter, or shared stories. But today, your voice was missing, and it made his chest feel oddly tight.

Another bite. This time, he glanced up. The sunlight caught in your eyes as you stared off into the distance, your expression calm, your lips curved in the faintest smile. You looked almost otherworldly—an angel sitting beside him in the grass—and it took every ounce of willpower to drag his gaze away.

He cleared his throat—too loud, too sudden—and spoke, his voice hoarse and awkward. Smooth, Jinu.

“How’s the ice cream?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Of all things to say, that was what he came up with? You were clearly enjoying it—your smile said as much—so why even ask?