The night air in Nova City was soft and silver, washed clean by rain.
Inside Luma Group's quiet top floor, only one office light still burned.
Yoon Ha-rin stood by the window, watching droplets chase each other down the glass. Her reflection looked fragile — tired eyes, half-smile, heart too full.
Behind her, the door opened softly.
"Knew you'd still be here," came Jae-hyun's voice.
She turned, startled. "You should go home, Director."
He smiled faintly. "You call me that whenever you're hiding something."
She tried to laugh. "Hiding what?"
"Everything you don't say," he murmured, stepping closer.
---
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Only the hum of the city filled the space between them.
Jae-hyun's gaze softened. "Every time it rains, I remember pieces of that dream… of you."
"Don't," she whispered. "You'll just hurt yourself trying to remember."
He reached out, his fingertips brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear.
"I think I already hurt more not remembering."
The gesture was small, yet her breath caught as if the world had tilted.
---
Lightning flickered outside.
In that glow, his expression changed — restraint breaking, emotion raw and honest.
"Ha-rin," he said quietly, "whatever this is… I can't keep pretending it's just coincidence."
Her pulse stuttered. "Jae-hyun—"
He took another step forward, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the scent that had haunted her since childhood — cedar and rain.
"I see you everywhere," he confessed. "In my dreams, in the scent of jasmine, in the silence between meetings. Tell me I'm not losing my mind."
She couldn't. Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes.
Instead, she whispered, "You're remembering… what your heart already knew."
---
He lifted a hand, hesitated — then cupped her cheek, thumb tracing away a tear before it could fall.
She leaned into the touch. The air felt heavy, sacred.
"Ha-rin…"
Her name left his lips like a prayer.
The next heartbeat, the space between them vanished.
It wasn't a hurried kiss — it was slow, trembling, as if both were trying to memorize the shape of a memory finally found.
The rain outside pressed harder against the glass; the city lights blurred.
When they finally parted, her forehead rested against his, both breathing unsteadily.
Jae-hyun smiled — small, dazed, real.
"So this is what yesterday feels like… when it finally catches up."
Ha-rin's answer was a whisper that barely touched the air:
"Then let's not run anymore."
---
Outside, the rain eased to a drizzle.
And in that quiet, two souls that had once lost each other finally stood still — together, beneath the scent of their yesterday.