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୨⎯ jia ⎯୧

it has been two week since the funeral and life has turned upside down. i barely have time to eat, let alone sleep, and in-ho notices. he always notices. every time he calls, i tell him i'm busy. every time he texts, i leave him on read. it's not intentional - it's just... everything's different now. i feel like i don't have time to grieve because i've been thrown into my father's world, a world where i have to be strong and unstoppable.

but in-ho? he's persistent.

"jia, come over."

"not tonight."

"jia."

"i said no, in-ho."

it's the same routine every day. and every day, i feel myself slipping further and further away from him. maybe it's for the best. maybe he'll get tired and leave before i do something to hurt him worse.

but then, one night, after a particularly exhausting day, i walk into my apartment and freeze. in-ho is sitting on my couch, arms crossed, looking pissed.

"what the hell-"

"hana let me in," he cuts me off, standing up. "and before you start yelling, i don't care. we need to talk."

i sigh, dropping my bag on the table. "in-ho, i don't have time for this."

"make time."

i roll my eyes and turn to walk toward my bedroom, but he grabs my wrist, firm but gentle. "jia, look at me."

i don't. i can't.

"you're shutting me out," he says, softer this time. "you won't answer my calls, you barely respond to my texts, and when i ask to see you, it's always 'later' or 'not tonight.' i know you're grieving, but you don't have to do it alone."

i swallow hard, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. "i don't need your help. i need to work."

he shakes his head. "no, you need to breathe."

and then, just like that, his arms are around me. at first, i don't react. i stay stiff, unmoving. but then he holds me tighter, and something inside me cracks. i grip his jacket, burying my face in his chest as the tears spill over.

"i don't know how to do this," i whisper. "i don't know how to live without him."

"then let me help you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair. "just let me in. please."

for the first time in weeks, i let myself feel something other than exhaustion. i let myself feel him.

i pull back slightly, looking up at him through wet lashes. and then, i kissed him. it starts slow, hesitant, like i am scared to let go, scared to want something for myself again. but when he kisses me back, deep and desperate, i know i need this - need him.

"let me make up for it," i breath against his lips, tugging him toward my bedroom.

"jia, we don't have to-"

"i want to," i cut him off, my fingers curling into his shirt as i pull him inside.

his thumb brushes over my cheek. "this isn't what i want from you."

i blink. "but you've been waiting for me. i've been distant. i thought-"

"i don't want you like this." his tone is softer now, but there's something heavy beneath it. he pulls me up, making me stand in front of him. "you're exhausted. you've barely even looked at me these past two weeks. and now you think this is how you fix it?"