This time, they didn't call.
They asked to meet.
Not formally.
Not at the office.
Just a quiet café, early afternoon.
Ha-rin read the message twice before showing it to me.
"…They want to talk in person," she said.
"Yes."
"…That's new."
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"…Do I go?"
"Yes," I replied. "But not alone."
"I won't be alone," she said.
"Yes," I agreed. "But you will answer alone."
She understood.
The café was nearly empty when we arrived. I stayed outside, close enough to see through the glass but far enough not to intrude.
Her manager was already seated.
He stood when she approached.
"Ha-rin," he said warmly. "Thank you for coming."
She nodded politely and sat.
"I won't take much of your time," he said. "I know you've been resting."
"Yes."
He smiled.
"We're all concerned about you."
"I appreciate that."
Silence followed.
Not awkward.
Measured.
"We've given you space," he continued. "And we understand this is a personal time."
"Yes."
"But the uncertainty…" he added gently, "…is becoming difficult to manage."
She waited.
"We're not asking for answers today," he said. "Just clarity."
"…Clarity about what," she asked.
He folded his hands.
"About your direction."
The words were calm.
Carefully chosen.
"We need to know," he continued, "whether you see yourself continuing on the same path in the near future."
There it was.
No euphemisms.
No soft framing.
Just the question.
Ha-rin didn't answer immediately.
The noise of the café filled the space between them.
"…Are you asking if I'm still committed to my career," she asked.
"I'm asking," he replied, "if your priorities have changed."
She met his gaze.
For a moment, she considered saying what would be easiest.
No.
Nothing's changed.
Just a little rest.
Back soon.
Predictable.
Safe.
But the words didn't come.
"…Yes," she said instead.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes sharpened.
"I see."
She held his gaze.
"…That doesn't mean I'm leaving," she added.
"Of course not."
"…It means I need time."
"Yes."
He nodded slowly.
"We can work with time," he said. "But we need to understand what that time is for."
There it was again.
The real question beneath the polite one.
She chose her words carefully.
"…To decide what comes first," she said.
He studied her.
"…And have you decided," he asked.
She didn't look away.
"…Not completely."
That was the truth.
He leaned back slightly.
"That's honest," he said.
"Yes."
He exhaled.
"We'll continue to support you," he said. "But support works best with direction."
She nodded.
"…I understand."
They didn't say more.
They didn't need to.
When she left the café, her pace was steady.
I stepped away from the window and joined her outside.
"…They asked directly," she said.
"Yes."
"…And I answered."
"Yes."
She looked ahead.
"…I didn't lie."
"That matters."
She nodded once.
"…Now they know."
"Yes."
The city moved around us.
Unchanged.
But something had shifted.
The question had been asked.
And answered.