When they sit down to eat, usually not a moment passes before they launch on news of the day, finally having someone to share thoughts with. Except today, that is. Something is blocking Logan’s thoughts and he just keeps staring at her. 

 

His eyes fall on her Tiffany cuff. It’s too big and ornate for her small wrist. He is angry at it. 

 

“So, who’s the guy?” 

 

“Why would you assume it’s from a guy?”, she counters, taking a sip from her glass. “I can buy my own jewelry” she wiggles her fingers full of rings. 

 

“You didn’t buy this one though”. 

 

She tilts her head. 

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“It's silver, which you don’t wear. And it doesn’t match your style, too flashy. So it’s a man who wants to impress you with big jewelry and who doesn't consider what you actually like.”

 

“You can tell all that by just looking at it”

 

“By looking at you”. 

 

She clears . 

 

“My ex husband”. 

 

He lifts his palms as if to say “there you go”. Though the gesture lacks the lightness he intended. 

 

“Impressive deduction skills”. 

 

Her praise warms something in him and he can’t blame the wine. He could bask on it, or change the subject to something that wouldn’t remind her other men. Struggling with himself, he drops the bomb. 

 

“He wants you back”. 

 

“What?”

 

“It's Tiffany's 2023 collection. It’s not from the time you were married, he got that right before he saw you, I’m guessing last weekend. It’s not a ring, it would be too forward and would scare you off, but he still wants you to see it all the time on your wrist and think of him.”

 

She rests her chin on her hand, studying him. 

 

“Was I close?”

 

She blinks but doesn’t answer, pushing the sushi pieces across her plate. Times like these, when the conversation is on her, he’s reminded that she’s still holding back pieces of herself, even if they talk every day. Maybe four months won't be enough to peel back all her layers.
 

“He made a proposal”, she interrupts his musing. 

 

Even if he suspected as much, something vicious at his insides. 

 

“Marriage?”

 

“Eventually”. 

 

The stuffy air of the restaurant pushes down his lungs. His palms start to sweat and he fists the napkin. 

 

He's always been observant of people -his father taught him to study who he’s going to business with closely- but suddenly he hates that skill. Half of him wishes he hadn’t asked, they’re friends, but the other half digs deeper. 

 

“You’re wearing the cuff, does this mean you accepted?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

No matter how secure a man is, his wife wouldn’t be having dinner with another man every night. He doesn’t want to lose these evenings with her. Maybe that’s a selfish reason, for a selfish man. 

 

“If you can’t answer this, you shouldn’t have brought the whole thing up” she corners him. “Even if your… Sherlock thing was charming”. 

 

“Do you find me charming?”

 

“Forget what I said about your deduction skills”, she teases but there’s a tinge in her voice.  “Speak your mind, please”. 

 

“In Spanish, esposa means wife. It also means” he takes her hand and circles his fingers around her wrist, “handcuff”. 

 

Even as he says it, it’s a half truth. Being married to the wrong person can be a prison, but being with the right one… what does he know.  

 

“He wants me locked up in his palace again”. A storm breeds behind her eyes. “I fought hard to get out. There’s not enough gold in the world to get me back there.” She finally smiles, like a rainbow after the storm. “He can try though”. 

 

When he opens her car door, she turns around. 

 

“Since you’re such an expert on women’s jewelry, what would you buy?”

 

“For you?”

 

In her words, there’s not enough gold in the world. 

 

—

 

The clock ticks, Logan should be knocking on her door at any moment. having a meal with Logan after a hard day is like releasing the ache from her feet, relaxing and pleasant. She sees Yoon Hee and Rona on the weekends, and sometimes she goes on blind dates. Though she hasn’t been to one lately. It’s hard to find someone both interesting and interested. 

 

The hands of the clock roll to 6, glide to 7, roll to 8, but there’s no knock and she is hungry. She usually has a big breakfast at home, light lunch in the office cafeteria and dinner with a particular new friend. One she now has to chase down. 

 

Descending to his floor, everything is dark except the corner office. Logan is locked on a screen, typing maniacally as the 3D printer beeps every few seconds, producing polymer parts that look like buildings, benches, trees. On the table -that’s usually kept neat as a hotel room- towers a half-finished maquette. 

 

He doesn’t notice her presence until she’s standing right in front of him. 

 

“Su Ryeon ssi” he looks around confused, “what time is it?” and scrambles “I missed dinner? I’m sorry, I have to finish this and time flew-”

 

“What about your team?”
 

“I sent them home, it was my miscalculation that delayed all this. Now I have to make the pieces again and log on the details for the digital model”. He runs a hand through his hair, blonde strands escaping. It's the messiest she’s ever seen him -jacket thrown to a chair, rolled up shirt sleeves, files and paper scraps littering his work surface. Tie caught on his shirt. 

 

Su Ryeon doesn’t associate much with fellow executives, most are stuffy and proper all the time and opt out of the unglamorous parts of the job. That's what she likes about Logan. For all his great ideas, he follows through with work. He could abuse the privilege of his position, and overwork his subordinates, but instead he bears the brunt of the workload. His name doesn't afford him arrogance, only responsibility. 

 

She picks up a broken piece and inspects it. The decision is easy. 

 

“Alright, if we work fast, you may be able to sleep a little tonight”. She drops her stuff on the only empty chair and gets the glue. He looks at her baffled. 

 

“We?” he rolls his chair to her side “No, you go home. I can’t make it for dinner, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow” he goes to take the piece but she pulls it off his reach.
 

“I was making maquettes for a decade, and you need help”. 

 

“Still, it’s late, you don’t have to stay with me”. 

 

“But I will”, she eyes the plastic components, “now focus on the measurements and I'll do the model”. 

 

They work side by side quietly, both concentrating on their tasks in a way that doesn’t leave room for regular conversation. He checks her handiwork occasionally, nodding and asking. The Chinese takeout she ordered arrives and they inhale it sprawled out on the floor, every other surface covered in papers. 

 

“And you brought me food” he smiles a tired smile, closing his eyes. There’s a blush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it’s the lights. 

 

“No it’s all for me” she squats his hand away and they both laugh. 

 

“Besides having no life, and no regard for my empty stomach” she teases, “why are you really here?”

 

He stabs a dumpling with the chopsticks, and sighs. 

 

“I want to prove myself to the company, so they know I'm not just the son of someone”. 

 

“Is there something waiting for you when you go back?”

 

“If I succeed here, a promotion. Head Architect”.

 

“In three months you’ll find out”. They will both find out. 

 

“Time flies. I can’t believe I’ll go back”

 

“Don’t you want to?”

 

He looks at her, really looks. She pauses her chopsticks on the way to . 

 

“It's my dream job. I should want to”. 

 

“Anything keeping you here?”

 

He’s silent for so long, she thinks he won’t answer. And they call her mysterious. 

 

“Yes” he nods. “The food”. 

 

Out of nowhere a splash of disappointment hits her gut. 

 

–

 

She doesn’t know how it happens, but she feels something nudging her out of sleep. Something is covering her on the sofa and a voice rouses her. 

 

“Come on, let’s get you home” Logan's soft tone as his hand cups her shoulder. She didn’t intend to fall asleep, but she finished the model while Logan was still on the computer. 

 

“Are we done?” 

 

He nods and takes her hand, helping her to stand, his coat dropping off her shoulders. 

 

It must be the middle of the night, he let her sleep a lot judging from the fogg in her head. Her joints ache pleasantly, as she spreads her arms over her head in a very satisfying stretch. 

 

“Work is finished”

 

“Then this has to go” and before her sleep drugged mind stops her, she grabs his tie and pulls him in. She struggles to loosen it with uncoordinated hands but- he’s suddenly so close. So close his chin touches her nose and she can smell his cologne. He looks down and-

 

Damn. 

 

For a moment time is suspended and she holds him. He looks frozen. His exhale is measured, and she feels it in every part of her body. A spark zaps from where she’s touching his chest to her bare feet, planted in the carpet. Her bangs fall on her eyes and she can’t see his expression and moving is a risk, the spell keeping her still. 

 

He covers her hand with his and… gently removes it from his collar. They’re silent all the way to the cars. 

 

–

 

She goes up to leave for the day, but hushed voices stop her at the office door. 

 

“Is office romance allowed here?” It's Logan.  

 

Her secretary snickers but leans in. 

 

“Are you pursuing someone here?”

 

Su Ryeon holds her breath. 

 

“Maybe”, he answers conspiratorially. 

 

A flare of excitement rises to . 

 

He continues. “If I wanted to pursue you, what are the rules?”

 

Her secretary snickers. 

 

She freezes. For once she hoped- nothing. She can’t entertain this. But the images flood her mind without her permission. Logan coming to her office, talking with her secretary, lingering . The whole thing of not having any friends was a cover for flirting with Anh Ra. 

 

What's it to you? she thought of him as a friend but something crashed just now. The possibility, the hope. 

 

It’s the hope that kills you. 

 

She doesn’t stay to hear the end of that love story.