Kyungsoon draped herself across the back of the sofa with a heavy groan. Her frustration practically radiated off of her, hitting Minseok’s back with intense, persistent waves.

He flipped a page. “What’s wrong?”

The high whine in reply broke off into dry sobs muffled by the afghan Kyungsoon was trying to smother her misery—and hopefully herself—in.

reached over his shoulder and blindly found her hair, scratching the back of her head consolingly.

With another groan, she rolled off the back of the sofa to the cushions and slithered until she sat flush against Minseok—kind of beside him, kind of behind him, just enough to wrap her arms around his chest and bury her face in his shoulder. Her frustration was so apparent that her arms physically shook.