The air outside was crisp, the last glow of twilight brushing the ivy-covered walls of the Jun residence. The warmth from inside spilled through the open doorway, yet none of it reached the frozen expressions of the two men standing face to face.
"Rayden Lancaster?" Mr. Jun's voice held both surprise and subtle weight.
Rayden gave a polite nod, straightening his posture instinctively. "Mr. Jun."
Anne's gaze darted between them, her confusion mounting. "You two... know each other?"
"We've crossed paths before," Rayden replied coolly. His tone was neutral, but Anne caught the flicker in his eyes—unease?
Mr. Jun stepped aside, clearing his throat. "Come in. It's cold out."
Inside, the house smelled of roasted herbs and fresh bread. The space was cozy, full of warm tones and personal touches. Framed photographs lined the walls, shelves were stacked with books and souvenirs. It felt lived in. Loved.
Mrs. Jun greeted them with a warm smile, offering each a pair of indoor slippers. "We're glad you could come."
"Thank you for having us," Anne said, slipping off her heels. She shot Rayden a look, silently pleading for him to behave.
Dinner was served in the heart of the home, the table modest but inviting. As they sat, the silence was broken only by the clinking of cutlery—until Mr. Jun cleared his throat.
"Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Mr. Lancaster," he finally said, voice neutral.
Rayden gave a respectful nod. "Neither did I."
Anne shot him a quick look. That was better than the icy tension she'd been afraid of.
They settled at the small table in the back, where Mrs. Jun had laid out dinner—steamed rice, soy-glazed short ribs, pickled daikon, and warm oolong tea. Rayden looked oddly humbled by the domestic spread.
Mrs. Jun offered him a bowl. "Do you eat spicy?"
Rayden glanced at Anne, then accepted it. "I can manage."
Mr. Jun chuckled. "You better. My wife doesn't know how to cook mild."
Laughter eased the room's tension. Anne relaxed into her seat. For once, she wasn't performing. Not really. And somehow, that made it feel more dangerous.
Midway through dinner, Mr. Jun raised an eyebrow and looked at Anne. "I don't understand how someone as kind as you ended up with this guy."
Anne snorted softly and leaned back in her chair. "You should be asking how he ended up with me."
She tilted her head toward Rayden with a playful smirk. "He's the difficult one in this relationship."
Mr. Jun cleared his throat. "So. How long have you two been together?"
Rayden's grip on his spoon faltered.
Anne stepped in quickly, her voice smooth. "A few months now."
Mrs. Jun tilted her head. "Still new, then. But you two look…well, different. But not in a bad way."
"Different?" Anne laughed nervously.
"Like fire and ice," he teased. "But somehow, it works."
Rayden's lips twitched, almost smiling. "She's the fire, I presume?"
"Oh, definitely," Mr. Jun said with a soft chuckle.
The laughter that followed was genuine, melting away more of the stiffness.
Mrs. Jun stood up to bring out dessert. "We made something special. A twist on our signature gelato. Anne mentioned you liked figs, right?"
Anne lit up. "Yes! I didn't think you'd remember."
Mrs. Jun smiled. "When someone lights up talking about food, it stays with you."
Rayden, silently chewing, glanced at Anne, who had been smiling the whole night.
Had she really lit up?
Mrs. Jun broke the silence. "What about you, Anne? You're a writer, aren't you?"
"I… try to be," she replied modestly.
"Have you written anything we might know?"
Anne hesitated. Then she smiled. "When I was in high school, I wrote a short story about a mother fighting cancer. It was inspired by my mother."
Mr. Jun nodded slowly. "That sounds… heartfelt."
"It was," Anne said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "She survived in the story," Anne murmured. "I think… that's just how I wanted to be."
A moment passed. Rayden's eyes flicked to her, unreadable.
Mrs. Jun touched her arm gently. "You have a tender soul, Anne."
"And a strong one," Mr. Jun added, more to himself than to her.
Anne lowered her eyes. Compliments like those felt too raw.
For a long moment, Mr. Jun stared at her—then nodded slowly. "I'd like to read it sometime."
Anne smiled. "I'd be honored."
After coffee was served, Mrs. Jun rose from her seat and clasped her hands. "Why don't you come again next week? We're hosting a small garden gathering. Just friends. Art lovers. Quiet people."
Anne looked at Rayden. He hesitated, but then gave a short nod. "We'll be there."
Mr. Jun raised a brow, surprised. "Are you sure?"
"I don't make promises lightly," Rayden said.
Anne blinked at him. Was that… pride in his voice?
As they stepped out into the cool night, Mrs. Jun pulled Anne aside. "You have a good heart. It's loud, even when your voice isn't."
Anne's throat tightened. "Thank you."
"And don't worry about him," she nodded toward Rayden. "Sometimes, people just need a little warmth to remember how to feel."
Anne chuckled softly. "He's a work in progress."
Mrs. Jun winked. "Aren't we all?"
As the car pulled away from the cozy home and back toward the towering lights of the city, Rayden broke the silence.
"They really like you."
Anne looked out the window, a small smile playing on her lips. "I like them too."
Rayden didn't respond, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. Something inside him shifted—small, quiet, but undeniable.
Maybe, just maybe… this arrangement wasn't so bad after all.
______
Back inside, after Anne and Rayden had left, Mr. Jun stood by the counter, flipping through an old file folder. At the very back was the contract he had previously rejected—the one with Swiss & Wellington Group's insignia in silver foil.
He stared at it for a long while.
His wife entered, drying her hands with a towel. "What's on your mind?"
He didn't respond immediately.
She stepped closer, her voice gentle. "You're reconsidering, aren't you?"
Still, he didn't speak.
She touched his elbow lightly. "You okay with that woman?"
That woman. Eleanor Lancaster.
He hesitated. "What about you… you're okay with it?"
His wife didn't answer.
And the page stayed open on the table.