a threat.

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Haemi sat at the dinning table, positioning herself directly across from Sehun’s living room entrance to wait for his return. Her anticipation grew when she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. To see Sehun in his distraught state broke her heart, the forced smile on his face could not spark a hint of life. He was broken. 


“Welcome back,” Haemi waved a hand for him to come over. She was determined to treat him as she would normally because he needed a break from everything. Her feet worked quickly to reheat the food on his dining table that have been sitting out for the last hour. Using the bare minimum amount of produce found in his fridge, she was able to whip up two standard plates of fried rice— a staple recipe of hers. 


“I tried to make dinner…” she mumbled quietly. This wasn’t the meal plan that she had in mind for their first dinner together. Still, Haemi rushed over to his side to invite the baffled author over. For one, he didn’t expect her to still be here. Sehun does not recall giving her the house passcode either. In other words, she probably stayed at his place the whole day today. Placing both of her palms against his back, Haemi pushed him towards the kitchen. 


“What have you been doing all day?” he asked, a small chuckle managed to escape when she began struggling to move his stone stature. Sehun purposely remained still at his spot to tease the poor girl. 


“Clean, work, nap, cook, there’s plenty to do here,” she said with a low groan from the excessive strength she put in to push him. “I wanted to make sure that you came back so I just stayed…” Haemi admitted shamelessly in her endless attempts to move him. No use, the man was an impenetrable wall. 


Sehun swiftly turned his body unannounced, and as their faces met a few inches apart, his lips curved into a mischievous smile. Using an arm to secure her waist, he pulled Haemi into an embrace with his forehead pinned on her shoulder. 


“My passcode is the same as our old apartment,” he whispered faintly, the fatigue in his voice worried her tremendously. Haemi brought both of her arms up around him, as gentle as possible, she began to run her hand up and down his back. Without a single word exchanged, they comforted each other wholeheartedly against this cruel reality.


“I’d hug you all day long, but I really don’t want to reheat the food again,” she decided to drop a snarky humor to divert the gloominess. 


Sehun obeyed the girl, allowing himself to be pushed into his seat like a child being fed. To see her smiling happily though, was worth while. The confident editor sat across from him, waiting patiently for Sehun to dig into his food first before she can fully enjoy hers. Wanting to was his initial plan, but when he tasted the nostalgic meal— it brought him back to their teen years. Knowing how indifference he was about eating lunch, Haemi always made sure he was fed throughout high school. Her signature fried rice was a ‘lazy day’ menu item whenever she was too lazy to cook.


“Overly seasoned as always,” he commented jokingly, which earned him a sharp flick on the forehead. They laughed, for the few hours away from the public’s judgment, they were able to laugh freely again. A huge part of her never wanted this moment to end, especially for Sehun. 


It was getting later into the night as they wrapped up their short dinner date. Neither one of them brought up the article. They were both too afraid to open up that conversation, fearing that it may end up being a double edged sword if they did. Even so, dread and guilt at the pit of her stomach shot through Haemi as she studied Sehun’s gentle expression. It would’ve been much easier if he got angry at her instead, for all the things that her mother had put him through. 


“I’ll take you home,” he offered, already walking with her to the door. Haemi halted her steps by the entrance to face him, she didn’t speak for a while nor did she have the courage to look at him in the eyes. At the moment, she was reflecting on her mother’s wrongdoings.


“I’m sorry…” she whispered monetarily.



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