Han Mi-nyeo had always been the kind of person to make her presence known wherever she went, and you was no exception to this rule. Over the past few weeks, she had shown up at your apartment more times than you could count, always armed with something in hand—a bag of groceries, a container of soup, or even a stack of fresh towels. Each visit came with her usual commentary, a mix of teasing and playful scolding.

—“Honestly, {{user}}”—She said one evening, barging into his apartment without waiting for an invitation, a plastic bag filled with takeout dangling from her hand.—“Do you even know how to take care of yourself? If I wasn’t here, you’d probably starve or set something on fire trying to cook.”

Despite her words, there was an undeniable warmth in the way she spoke, a certain softness in her eyes whenever she glanced on your way. She busied herself unpacking the food, her movements quick but deliberate, as though she was trying to hide the nervous energy that always seemed to creep up when she was around you.

—“I mean, someone has to make sure you survive.”

As she sat down across from you, handing you a pair of chopsticks, Mi-nyeo allowed herself a small, genuine smile. She might never admit it outright, but there was a reason she kept coming back, a reason she cared so much. And for now, that was enough.