Lines Crossed

The air between them hadn't gone back to normal since Grandma's party.

Not that Mina expected it to.

Not after Minseo's speech.

Not after the way he looked at her like she was the only real thing in a room full of lies.

And not after that hug—that long, too-tight, suspiciously lingering hug when no one else was watching. She'd almost said something. Something real.

But she hadn't.

Because if she admitted it, the whole thing would collapse.

So she did what Mina always did when life got too big: ignore, deflect, distract.

Minseo, however, did not.

He showed up again at the café, two days later, looking strangely serious.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

Mina, mid-latte pour, blinked. "Are you breaking up with me? Because if this is a dramatic breakup scene, I demand tears."

Minseo didn't laugh.

He took her by the wrist, gently, and led her into the back storeroom. It smelled like cinnamon and too much dish soap.

"I got an offer," he said.

Something in her chest dropped.

"A long-term gig," he clarified. "Two months. Hong Kong."

"Oh," Mina said.

He watched her. "It's a high-paying client. Repeat work. Safe. Clean story arc."

"Sounds great," she said, too fast.

"I haven't accepted yet."

She crossed her arms. "Why not? Isn't that the dream? More clients. More fake romance. More 'you make me want to be real' monologues."

Minseo flinched slightly.

"Mina—"

"I'm not mad," she lied.

"You sound mad."

"I'm not!" she snapped. "This was supposed to be fake. Remember? You acted. I panicked. That was the whole bit."

"I meant it," he said sharply.

She froze.

"I meant all of it," he said, quieter now. "Every stupid line, every excuse to see you again. I'm not acting anymore."

Mina's heart felt like it was clawing at her ribs. "You can't just say things like that."

"Why?"

"Because if this isn't pretend, then I have to admit I let you in. And I don't do that."

He stepped closer. "Why not?"

"Because people leave, Minseo!"

The words tore out of her before she could stop them. Raw. Too loud.

The room fell silent.

Mina's eyes burned, her hands trembling at her sides.

Minseo's expression softened, and his voice was barely a whisper. "I'm not trying to leave. But I need to know if you want me to stay."

She looked at him.

Really looked.

And something inside her cracked.

"I don't know what this is," she said.

He nodded. "Then let me help you figure it out."

And then—

He kissed her.

Not like a scene. Not like a line in a script.

It was messy. Real. Hesitant. His hand hovered just beneath her jaw, like he was afraid to break her. And when she kissed him back, something behind her ribs broke open in the best possible way.

She didn't even realize she was crying until he pulled back, breathless.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Was that—?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. No, that was—"

But the door creaked open.

Jae stood there.

Expression unreadable.

"I knew it," he said.

Minseo's hand dropped away from hers. Mina stepped back instinctively.

Jae's voice was quiet but cold. "So it was fake. And now it's not."

Mina opened her mouth—but had no words.

Jae gave a tight smile. "You should be careful, Mina. If you don't know what's real, someone else will define it for you."

Then he walked away.

And just like that, the truth wasn't just between her and Minseo anymore.

It was out.