At home, Seo-in frowned down at her buzzing phone screen. Another message from her mother.
[Eomma] 13:36 : Have you thought more about what we discussed?
Seo-in's frown deepened. She knew her mother meant well, but the constant prodding always came wrapped in judgment.
"We've talked about this already, Mom," she muttered under her breath while typing a curt reply:
[Seo-in] 13:37 : Yes … can we please drop it?
The response came faster than expected—first another notification, then the phone began to ring. Her mother's name flashed insistently across the screen. Seo-in sighed and accepted the call, bracing herself.
"Mom?"
"Seo-in-ah, why are you always so stubborn?" came the sharp voice. "Tell me the truth—are you pregnant?"
Seo-in nearly dropped the phone. "What?! No! Where did that even come from?"
Her mother clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Then why are you still living with that boy? I told you, you're too good for someone like him."
Seo-in's grip on the phone tightened, frustration pulsing beneath her skin. "We've been over this, Mom. You don't understand him—you don't even know him—"
"I don't need to," her mother cut in. "Come back to Seoul. If it's about money, I'll transfer it immediately."
"It's not about money," Seo-in said through clenched teeth.
A pause. Then came that tone—sweet, measured, and unbearably patronizing.
"Then what is it about, hm? Tell me honestly. Are you really happy there?"
Seo-in exhaled sharply. Her voice softened, but the firmness didn't waver.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving."
She hesitated, then added quietly, almost to herself, "...I love him, Mom."
Silence. Then a weary sigh drifted through the line, the kind that carried defeat and guilt in equal measure.
"Fine. But when things go wrong, don't say I didn't warn you."
The call ended before Seo-in could respond—a classic exit move perfected over years of the same conversation.
She stared at the dark screen, jaw tight, until her reflection blurred. Then she tossed the phone onto the couch and slumped beside it, letting out a small, muffled groan.
Some mix of anger, sadness, and exhaustion settled in her chest—heavy, familiar, and hard to name.
The apartment door clicked open behind her. Seo-in jumped, turning around—Luca stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his posture tense. He must have heard the last part of her conversationor worse, the whole thing.
He took in the scene: the discarded phone on the couch, the mix of frustration and fear still lingering in her eyes. The tension in the air told him enough.
"Was that your mom just now?" he asked quietly, stepping closer.
"Ah … didn't you say you'd be home late? You were supposed to visit your dad tonight," she said, fumbling for words.
"I did," Luca replied shortly. Lies. "I just went to grab some money he owed me. And what about you?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Your class started two hours ago, didn't it?" His voice was calm—but there was weight behind every word.
Seo-in froze. The guilt was instant, heavy. She'd missed the bus earlier, then lost the motivation entirely after her argument. But how could she explain that without sounding like an excuse?
"I … forgot," she murmured.
Luca's jaw tensed. "You forgot?" He repeated it slowly, tasting the word as if it were something bitter.
Silence stretched for a moment. His gaze didn't waver. "I told you—living with me wasn't a good idea."
The words hit hard. Seo-in felt her chest tighten, defensiveness rising like a reflex. They'd had this argument before, in different forms, different tones—but it always came back to this.
"We went over this," she said, voice trembling slightly but stubborn. "It's fine. We're fine."
Luca scoffed softly. "Are we?" he muttered. "You're skipping classes, arguing with your mom, stressing yourself out—"
"And what about you?" Seo-in shot back, her patience finally cracking. "You're working yourself to death, barely sleeping, barely eating. Don't pretend you're fine either!"
"I'm working to survive, Seo-in!" he snapped, his voice rising for the first time. "If I don't do it, who will? You? What would people think of me—living off your money? Your mother already hates me, do you want to make her hate me even more ha?"
Seo-in flinched at the sharpness in his tone. Luca rarely yelled—but when he did, it came from somewhere raw, a wound that never healed.
She swallowed hard. "Then what do you want me to do?" she asked quietly, but firmly. "Just leave? You think that'll make things better? For you? For us?"
Luca's hands clenched into fists, then loosened again as he exhaled harshly through his nose. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tired.
"I didn't say that…"
Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats — the air still heavy enough to cut with a knife, yet neither willing to escalate further.
Eventually, Seo-in reached out tentatively, her fingertips brushing against Luca's tense forearm — testing the waters.
"Talk to me," she murmured softly. She didn't want another round of the same argument; they both already knew how it always ended.
He didn't pull away — a small victory in itself — but his body remained rigid, eyes fixed on the floor as if it had personally offended him.
"There's nothing to talk about," he muttered. Meaning: everything that needed saying had already been said — over and over — and still, nothing changed.
They were trapped in the same loop: love tangled with pride, fear, and pressure from all sides — things neither could fully control, no matter how much they wanted to.
Luca disappeared into the next room briefly, retrieving something he'd left behind. When he returned, he paused at the doorway before speaking quietly.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you earlier."
Seo-in blinked, caught off guard by the rare apology. Luca wasn't one to admit fault easily. She studied him — the tired curve of his shoulders, the sincerity in his eyes.
She stood and crossed the short distance between them, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
"I'm sorry too," she whispered. "It's just been ... a lot today."
His gaze softened, and he caught her hand, holding it loosely between his palms. They stayed like that — hands intertwined, silence stretching again — but this time, it was peaceful. Every glance, every touch carried more meaning than their words ever could.
Luca sighed, thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of her hand.
"...We're a mess, aren't we?" he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Me working myself to death, you stressing about classes. I'm supposed to make your life easier, not harder."
Seo-in let out a small huff of laughter despite herself. "Hey, it's a two-way street," she said softly. "We support each other, remember? That's kind of the deal."
Luca hummed, still absently tracing patterns against her skin. "Yeah, but it doesn't feel fair sometimes. You've got your own problems — and I keep adding to them."
"Hey," she said gently, shaking her head. "Don't think like that. You're not adding to my stress, okay?"
He still looked doubtful, but before he could argue, she stepped closer. "Look at me," she said quietly, waiting until he met her eyes. "We're a team. Good days, bad days — we face it together. That's how it works."
"You always make me agree with you," Luca said, a small smile creeping in. "You make life sound easy. I guess I'm just too hard on myself."
Seo-in smiled back, nudging him lightly. "A little dramatic, maybe," she teased.
He scoffed — mock offense — but the tension between them had finally eased.
She squeezed his hand a little tighter, her voice low but certain.
"I won't let you drown, you stubborn idiot."