forty six

"your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me." -little things, one direction.

——

it had been a week since misun started letting jihoon back into her life in small ways. she still struggled to fully trust him, but he was patient, showing her every day that he wouldn't leave again.

first day, the alarm buzzed and she groaned.

she took a quick shower, changed into her work outfit and walked into the living room. jihoon was already there, talking to her mom, holding two cups of coffee and a small paper bag.

"morning," he said softly, smiling.

she blinked, surprised. "you... you didn't have to come."

"i know," he said, offering her the coffee. "but i wanted to have breakfast with you."

she hesitated, then took it. the warmth of the cup seeped into her fingers—and somehow into her chest.

"thanks," she whispered.

"no thanks needed," he said. "come on, we've got a busy day."

on the ride to work, they talked quietly about little things—coffee, the weather. no pressure, no expectations, just presence.

later, after work, he was outside waiting for her.

"long day?" he asked, sliding the door open for her.

"yeah," she admitted, slipping inside the car.

"i brought dinner," he said, holding up a small box. "your favorite."

she looked at him, feeling her chest tighten. "you didn't have to—"

"i wanted to," he said softly, catching her hand in his. "i'm not going anywhere, misun. not again. let me do this for you, okay?"

she nodded.

the next day, he showed up with coffee and a croissant, grinning at her.

"you really don't need to do all this," she said, brushing hair behind her ear.

"i know," he said, voice soft, "but i like seeing you smile in the morning."

she glanced at him, and for a moment, all the fear from the past week melted.

he was trying his best to gain her trust again, and it was kind of working.

every morning, he picked her up, got her breakfast, and dropped her off at work. he texted her throughout the day, making sure she ate, making sure she was okay.

he picked her up after work, cooked dinner for her. when he was too exhausted, he bought dinner instead.

she still had doubts, still felt fear and panic sometimes—but each day, the walls around her heart crumbled just a little more.

by the end of the week, she realized she was starting to let go. she could laugh at his teasing, rest her head on his shoulder, feel safe in his presence. she wasn't fully healed, but she was learning to trust again—and that trust, fragile as it was, felt like hope.