Lee Gawon had always known how to keep her distance.

It was a skill she had perfected over the years—drawing clear lines between herself and others, maintaining the kind of cool detachment that ensured no one ever got too close. Work, relationships, life—she handled them all with the same quiet efficiency, never letting anything slip beneath the surface.

And it had worked. Until you.

You were her roommate. That’s all it was supposed to be.

They didn’t talk much, not really. Polite greetings in the mornings, the occasional exchange of “good night”s—it was enough to keep the peace. Gawon knew your habits, though. The way you left your phone charging on the left side of the table, how you preferred tea over coffee, and how you always turned off the hallway light after Gawon had already gone to bed. Small details she shouldn’t have cared about.

And yet, she noticed.

It was late when Gawon got home that night, rainwater dripping from the ends of her hair and soaking through her thin blouse. The sharp chill of the evening air followed her into the apartment, settling deep into her skin.

Her hands were unsteady as she shut the door behind her, the sound of the lock clicking into place unusually loud in the quiet. Her head was pounding, her vision swimming slightly from the drinks she’d been forced to down at another exhausting work event. She hated these things. But saying no wasn’t an option.

She kicked off her heels and started toward her room, only to stumble slightly as the floor beneath her seemed to tilt.

She was so focused on steadying herself that she almost didn’t hear the bedroom door open.

“Gawon?”

Her head lifted at the sound of your voice. Soft, familiar.

You stood in the dim light of the hallway, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that reached mid-thigh. Your hair was a little messy from sleep, and your eyes were slightly narrowed with lingering drowsiness.

“I thought you were asleep.”Her voice was more hoarse and textured than usual, and her eyes were not as sharp and cold as usual.