Chapter 19 — Unexpected Trip
1449 Words
The smell of coffee and toasted bread filled the air. Morning sunlight streamed through the apartment windows, glinting on dust motes that danced lazily above the breakfast table.
Aya was the first to break the quiet hum of the kitchen, her tone sharp but playful.
“So…” she began, tapping her mug, “should we talk about why our guest decided to stay in Hima’s room last night?”
Abi nearly choked on her drink. “Wait, what?”
Lila, scrolling through her phone, looked up with a dramatic gasp. “You’re kidding. Aria slept there?”
Aya smirked, leaning back. “I checked the guest room this morning. Perfectly made — like no one even stepped inside.”
Abi snorted. “Guess our dear Hima got herself an overnight guardian angel.”
Before Aya could reply, the apartment door slid open. Hima appeared, still in her gray shirt and sweats, hair slightly tousled but eyes calm. Behind her, Aria followed quietly, wearing one of Lila’s oversized hoodies, her hair tied in a messy bun.
The table fell silent — the kind of silence that always came right before chaos.
Aya raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Morning, roommates. Sleep well?”
Aria blinked, cheeks coloring. “Oh—uh, good morning. I—uh—it was just—”
Hima sighed, walking past to grab a mug. “She fell asleep checking my bandage. I didn’t want to wake her.”
Abi grinned. “Sure. Checking your bandage. Convenient.”
“Exactly!” Lila chimed in mercilessly. “We should all get injured if that’s what it takes for Aria to stay the night!”
Aria groaned, hiding her face. “You guys are impossible.”
Hima sat down, pretending to ignore them, though the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her calm facade. She took a slow sip of coffee, praying the teasing would stop — it didn’t.
Aya grinned. “Don’t worry, Aria. Your secret’s safe… for now.”
Aria muttered something about wanting the floor to swallow her, but before she could continue, her phone buzzed on the table.
The laughter faded.
“Yes, manager-nim? Oh—yes, I’m fine. I’ve been staying with friends.”
A pause.
“What? The resort shoot moved up?” Her eyes widened. “In two days? …Alright. I’ll be there.”
She hung up and exhaled. “They want me back. There’s a two-day shoot at a private resort outside the city.”
Lila perked up. “Ooh, fancy.”
Aya frowned. “Are they at least providing security after what happened?”
Aria hesitated. “They said yes, but… I’m still nervous. I don’t know who to trust.”
Hima glanced at her, quiet. Then spoke, voice low and even.
“Then don’t go without protection. Get real bodyguards — ones who can handle pressure, not just flash badges.”
Lila grinned suddenly. “Or… why not bring Hima with you?”
Both Aria and Hima looked at her, startled.
“Me?” Hima asked.
“Yeah!” Lila clapped. “She’s trained, she knows what’s going on, and you trust her. Plus, it’s a two-day resort trip — we can all tag along. Aya, Abi, you in?”
Abi smirked. “I second that. A little ‘vacation’ wouldn’t hurt.”
Aya sighed, but her lips curved slightly. “You just want a free resort stay.”
“Semantics,” Abi said, waving her hand. “Point is — Hima keeps Aria safe, and we all get some downtime. Win-win.”
Aria turned to Hima, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Would you… really come with me?”
Hima hesitated. Her instinct was to say no — to stay away from the light she admired too much. But then she saw the worry
shadowing Aria’s expression.
“Yeah,” Hima said finally, voice quiet but steady. “If you’ll have me.”
Relief softened Aria’s face into a small, grateful smile. “I’d like that.”
Lila clapped her hands. “Perfect! Then it’s settled — we’re going on a trip!”
Aya groaned. “God help that resort. They have no idea what’s coming.”
Abi chuckled. “They’ll find out soon enough.”
Hima leaned back, watching Aria text her manager.
Maybe, she thought, a little peace wouldn’t be so bad.
For once, it wasn’t about missions or bloodlines.
It was just a trip — maybe even a chance to breathe again.
The drive to the resort took nearly four hours — winding coastal roads lined with palms, golden light spilling across the sea.
The rhythmic hum of the car mixed with laughter from the back seat, where Abi and Lila sang along to the radio, their voices
mismatched but lively.
Aya sat beside the driver, reading emails from the hospital she occasionally covered shifts at. Beside her, Hima drove — one hand on
the wheel, the other near the gearshift — composed, focused, every motion deliberate.
Aria sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, hair in a low bun. For once, no cameras followed. Just the sound of waves outside and the faint scent of salt in the air.
Every now and then, she stole glances at Hima — the calm strength in her profile, the faint scar near her collarbone, the quiet steadiness that both intimidated and comforted her.
Next to Hima, she felt safe.
When they arrived, the resort came into view — white villas perched along the cliffs, the ocean stretching endlessly beyond.
“Whoa…” Lila breathed, pressing her face to the window. “I’m never leaving.”
Abi laughed. “You said that last time at the mountain villa. You cried on the way home.”
“I was emotionally attached!”
Hima parked smoothly. Aria stepped out first, stretching, the ocean breeze tugging gently at her hair. Her manager was already waiting.
“Miss Aria, welcome! Your suite is ready. The photo schedule’s confirmed for tomorrow morning.”
Aria nodded, slipping into her public grace — poised, elegant, untouchable.
Beside her, Hima’s quiet presence felt like an invisible shield — alert, observant, carrying their bags without a word.
Aya noticed. “You never stop analyzing, do you?”
Hima shrugged. “Habit.”
Abi grinned. “More like paranoia. But hey, it makes me feel safe enough to nap.”
They checked into adjoining villas — one for Aria and Hima, another for the trio.
Later that night, after dinner by the shore, Aria stood on the balcony, staring at the ocean. The moon reflected silver on the waves, her expression distant.
“Can’t sleep?”
She turned — Hima stood at the doorway, arms crossed, wearing a simple black shirt and joggers.
“Not really,” Aria admitted. “My mind’s… loud tonight.”
Hima joined her, leaning against the balcony rail. “You’re thinking about what happened, aren’t you?”
Aria hesitated, then nodded. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the flash. The gunfire. Then you… falling.”
Hima said nothing for a while, just listening to the wind. Then quietly,
“You don’t have to carry that. I did what needed to be done.”
“But still…” Aria’s voice wavered. “You could’ve—”
“I didn’t,” Hima interrupted gently. “So stop torturing yourself over it.”
Their eyes met — the world narrowing to waves and silence and everything unspoken.
Aria exhaled. “You talk like you’ve done this before.”
Hima smirked faintly. “Maybe I have.”
Abi’s voice suddenly broke the moment, echoing from the villa next door.
“Hey! You two lovebirds! Don’t hog the balcony — we’re bringing snacks!”
Aria flushed crimson. “W-We’re not—!”
Hima chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’ll get used to them.”
Minutes later, the four girls sat around a small fire pit on the beach — roasted marshmallows, spilled soda, laughter under the stars.
Aya teased, Lila took random photos, Abi cracked jokes until Aria laughed so hard she cried.
It was warm — too warm for the kind of lives they’d lived.
But even as Hima laughed with them, her gaze drifted — to the far edge of the resort, where a lone figure lingered too long by the service gate.
Her smile faded.
Too still. Too quiet.
“Everything okay?” Aria asked softly, noticing her tension.
“Yeah,” Hima lied, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking.”
But deep down, she knew —
Peace never lasted long in their world.
And somewhere out there, the shadows of the past were moving again.
- Writer
