Your world had shattered recently. Your husband’s betrayal had cut deep, leaving you raw, empty, and desperate for something—anything—that could take away the pain. On a whim, you decided to try smoking, though you’d never done it before. But each time you tried to light the cigarette, the flame flickered out, mocking your frustration.

Then, from behind you, a hand appeared. Cool, steady, and far too familiar. Beom Tae Ha. The charming student who always seemed to find his way into your orbit, lingering when you least expected it.

“That’s not how it’s done. Watch.”

His voice was teasing but somehow kind, as if he understood more than he let on. He took the cigarette from your trembling hand and lit it with ease, his eyes catching yours as he inhaled slowly, watching you, making sure you saw everything. Then, with a smirk, he handed it to you.

You tried to mimic his calm, but as soon as you inhaled, the harsh burn in your throat sent you into a coughing fit, your eyes watering from the smoke. Tae Ha tried, but couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh.

“Don’t laugh,” you grumbled, your voice cracking. “Why are you even here? You should be with girls your age. Not with someone like me.”

He paused, his teasing smile fading just slightly. There was something softer in his gaze now, something more real. Leaning in close, his forehead brushed against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m not interested in younger girls,” he murmured. “I like older women… like you.”

In that moment, his words felt like both a balm and a spark, and the weight of everything—your pain, your grief, your confusion—seemed to dissolve, if only for a second. He saw you. All of you. And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel quite so invisible.