Chapter 34: Yoon Sera

Soobin Oppa had left for Japan earlier that morning for a two-week project. It wasn't a long time, but the apartment already felt too empty in day ond. I distracted myself the only way I knew how—by working. The day had been long and exhausting. Back-to-back meetings, reports, deadlines. I barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. By the time I looked at the clock, it was 11 PM. The office was empty except for one other person.

Ryu Taesan.

I could still see him through the glass walls of his office, reviewing documents with his usual focus. He had been there since morning, just like me. I turned back to my screen, pretending not to notice when he finally stood up. I could feel his presence as soon as he stepped out of his office, his gaze on me. Then, in that familiar deep voice, he asked,

"Why are you still working?"

I kept my expression neutral, turning slightly in my chair. "I had a few reports to finish before tomorrow."

He nodded, his gaze flickering toward my desk before settling back on me. "And what about dinner?" I hesitated. He caught that.

His brows furrowed slightly. "Did you eat?"

I cleared my throat. "I was busy."

His face changed instantly. He didn't say anything at first, but I could see the shift—the sudden tension, the concern. Then, without missing a beat, he said, "Let's have dinner."

I blinked. "What?"

He exhaled sharply, his tone firm yet controlled. "It's late. You skipped your meal. As colleagues, we should at least make sure we don't pass out at work."

I stared at him for a moment. Colleagues. That was what we were now.

Not Taesan and Sera.

Just Mr. Ryu and Miss Yoon.

I swallowed, then nodded slowly. "Okay."

Because right now, I wasn't in the position to argue.

We walked in silence to a small restaurant just a few blocks away from the office. It wasn't fancy, but it was quiet. A place where no one would bother us.

Taesan had chosen it without hesitation, like he had been here a hundred times before.

As soon as we sat down, he ordered without asking me—kimchi stew and a few side dishes.

Just like old times.

Except this wasn't old times. We weren't the same people we used to be. When the food arrived, he finally broke the silence.

"How was the UK?"

I swallowed my bite slowly, caught off guard by the sudden informality. For the first time tonight, he wasn't Mr. Ryu. He was just Taesan. I took a sip of water before answering, "It was good. Different. Quiet, I guess."

He hummed, poking at his food with his chopsticks. "Quiet, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I lived alone most of the time. Worked, studied. Life was simple there."

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You never liked simple, it was always complex."

I glanced up at him. His expression was unreadable, but his words felt heavier than they should.

I hesitated before asking, "How about you? How was it here?"

He leaned back slightly, exhaling. "Busy. Complicated."

I pressed my lips together. He wasn't giving much, but I didn't expect him to.

Still, something about his tone made my chest tighten.

I picked at my food, my voice quieter now. "You never contacted me."

His chopsticks paused mid-air. Then, slowly, he placed them down.

"You left."** His voice was calm, but there was something cold underneath it.**

I met his gaze. "You could've still reached out."

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "For what, Sera?"

I didn't have an answer. Because I knew the truth. I was the one who let go first. Silence stretched between us. Then, Taesan sighed, running a hand through his hair. His next words were softer, more controlled.

"It's been Eight years, Sera. We don't have to talk about the past."

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. You're right."

We focused back on our food, but the words we left unsaid lingered between us like a ghost. After dinner, we stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night air. The streets were quiet, dimly lit by streetlights. I adjusted my coat, glancing at my phone. It was almost midnight. Taesan stood beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed—but I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to him and said, "Thanks for the meal. I'll head home now."

He didn't move.

"I'll drive you."

I blinked. "It's fine. I can go alone."

His expression didn't change. "It's late, Sera."

I sighed. "Taesan, I've lived alone for years. I can take care of myself."

His jaw tightened slightly. "I know. But I'll still drive you."

His tone left no room for argument. I hesitated, debating whether to push back, but I knew him. Once he decided something, there was no changing his mind. With a quiet sigh, I nodded. "Alright."

We walked to his car in silence. The ride home was just as quiet. The air between us felt heavy—not uncomfortable, but full of things neither of us were willing to say. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, my thoughts running in circles. I had told myself I was ready for this. Ready to be around him again. To keep things professional. But sitting here, in his car, with the scent of his familiar cologne filling the space between us—I realized I had been lying to myself. Because nothing about this felt easy. Nothing about this felt simple. When we reached my apartment, he parked the car but didn't turn off the engine. I hesitated before reaching for the door handle. "Thanks for the ride."

He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Go inside safely."

I stepped out, feeling his gaze on me until I disappeared into the building. And even after I closed the door behind me, I could still feel the weight of his presence lingering in my mind.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for support.

My heart was pounding. The moment I stepped out of his car, I thought I would feel relieved. Thought I would finally be able to breathe. But now, standing alone in my apartment, I felt more restless than ever. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling shakily. What is wrong with me? This wasn't supposed to happen. I had spent years convincing myself that leaving was the right thing to do. That it was best for both of us. That he would move on. That I would move on. But then I saw him again. And nothing had changed. Not the way he made my heart race. Not the way his voice sent warmth through my chest. Not the way his presence felt like home—even after all this time. I sat down on the couch, burying my face in my hands.

I still love him.

The realization hit me like a wave, crashing into me all at once, suffocating me. I thought time would erase these feelings. Thought I could walk away and never look back. But I was wrong. Because even after Eight years, my heart still belonged to him. And now, regret was creeping in, heavier than ever. I hurt him. I had walked away without a second thought, convinced that I was doing the right thing. But all I did was leave behind a man who had loved me with everything he had. And now, I didn't know if I could ever fix what I broke.