We don’t fall in love again all at once.

It starts with silence.

Heeseung shows up at the café every Thursday at exactly 6:17 PM. Same seat by the window. Same black jacket. Same tired eyes that pretend not to look for me.

I pretend not to notice.

Until one night, the rain traps us both inside.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

I shake my head. “It is now.”

We sit there.....two strangers who know each other too well. His knee almost touches mine. Almost.

“You still take your coffee sweet,” he says quietly.

I blink. “You remember that?”

He shrugs. “Some habits don’t leave.”

Neither do feelings. But we don’t say that.

Weeks pass. Shared glances. Late walks home. Conversations that stop right before they become confessions.

One night, we stand under a streetlight, rain dripping from the edges of the world.

“You always leave first,” Heeseung murmurs.

I look at him. “And you never ask me to stay.”

Our eyes meet. The air feels heavy—waiting.

He exhales slowly. “I’m asking now.”

I don’t step closer. Not yet.

Because this time, love isn’t a race.

It’s a quiet decision we make every time we choose not to walk away.