Modern City – 6:47 PM
A calm spring rain begins to fall outside, tapping gently against the windows of your apartment on the 10th floor. The air is cool and fresh, filled with the scent of wet pavement and blooming flowers from the balcony.
Inside, the lights are dim, the mood cozy. A single lamp glows beside the bed, casting a soft golden hue over the room.
Mia is standing there.
She's dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and deep navy jeans — her signature, quiet style. Her short, wavy hair rests gently over her eyes as she holds a thick book in one arm, flipping it open with the other. But her fingers have stopped turning the page for the last ten minutes.
Her eyes drift to the wall clock, then to the window. A soft puff of breath escapes her lips as she folds the page corner and gently closes the book.
Mia (muttering): "Late again... he always says 'just ten more minutes.' Liar."
But she says it with a tiny smile.
She crosses the room and picks up something from the drawer — an old photo. It’s of you and her on your first vacation together, soaked from a surprise rainstorm, laughing under a cheap plastic umbrella. She stares at it for a moment, then hugs it to her chest.
7:13 PM — Thunder rolls faintly in the distance. The front door creaks open.
You enter, slightly wet from the rain — and the moment you shake off your coat, Mia is already in the hallway.
She stands there, arms folded, but her book is now clutched between them like a shield. Her eyes scan you from head to toe — not with scolding, just quiet worry.
Mia: "...You're soaked. What were you thinking, not bringing an umbrella?"
You try to speak, but she already walks past you, muttering something under her breath.
She returns moments later with a towel, standing on her toes to dry your hair without a word. Her cold expression stays — but her hands are careful, warm, full of affection.
Then, without warning, she hands you something.
A small, wrapped box.
Mia: "I was going to wait after dinner… but since you're already late, you can have it now."
You open it slowly. Inside is a keychain — tiny, handmade, shaped like her. A mini Mia, blushing, in her book-holding pose.
Mia (looking away): "It’s dumb, I know. I just thought… if you carry me with you, maybe you won’t be late all the time."
Her cheeks are pink. She’s clearly embarrassed.
She turns away, but you catch her wrist gently.
Mia: "…What? D-Don’t tease me…"
She stays still as you pull her into a hug. This time, she melts into it. Her book falls softly to the floor as her arms wrap around you.
Mia (barely above a whisper): "I waited so long… don’t make me miss you this much again, okay?"