Chapter VII
685 Words
Several months had passed since Edward last saw Daisy at Incheon Airport, yet she kept returning to his mind without an invitation. Today, he was in the middle of filming his new drama, standing under hot studio lights that made the set feel stuffy despite the winter outside. The script in his hand should’ve occupied his thoughts, but instead, his mind drifted to the woman who had quietly slipped out of his life before he realized he wanted her to stay.
The director called for a short break. Edward sat on a worn-out prop sofa, flipping absentmindedly through the script he had almost memorized. His new drama, a production that required him to play a cold, wounded character. But all he could think about was Daisy’s voice, the tilt of her head when she was annoyed, and the way she tried to keep her guard up even when she felt safe beside him.
He exhaled slowly.
I should’ve asked for her number.
He had replayed the airport scene too many times.They barely knew each other. She was probably busy, constantly moving, living her life with the intensity he had only glimpsed in the short hours they spent together.
His assistant nudged him. “They need you for mic adjustment.”
Edward nodded and stood, but even while the staff secured microphones under his collar, his thoughts floated again. He wondered whether Daisy was writing something new, hiding behind her pseudonym, typing furiously somewhere in a quiet room. Or maybe she was on another spontaneous trip, running from responsibilities the way writers often did when a story refused to cooperate.
Filming continued late into the evening. The last scene drained him emotionally, but as soon as the director announced wrap, a strange lightness settled in his chest — the kind that made him restless. His manager texted to say the car couldn’t reach the front due to roadwork, so Edward would need to walk a few blocks to meet him.
He pulled up his hood, put on a mask, and slipped out through the back alley. The night was cold enough that his breath turned into small clouds. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to block the chilly wind, and followed the dimly lit road until he reached a convenience store he recognized from earlier shoots. Warm light spilled from inside, casting a yellow glow onto the pavement.
The automatic doors slid open, and someone stepped out. At first, Edward barely glanced up. He was too busy rubbing his hands together for warmth. But then he caught sight of a figure with two grocery bags, messy hair tied in a loose bun, and an oversized hoodie.
His heart stopped for a beat.
Daisy.
She paused at the entrance, lowering her head to check her phone. When she sensed someone staring, she looked up — and froze.
For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved.
“Edward?” she whispered, as if afraid she was imagining him.
He approached her slowly, the cold forgotten. “Daisy.”
She tightened her grip on the grocery bags. “What… what are you doing here?”
“I’m filming next door,” he said, nodding toward the dark building behind him. “You?”
“I’m staying nearby for a while. Working on something.”
Of course she was. Daisy always seemed to be working on something — her stories, her secrets, or simply herself. And suddenly Edward felt foolish for all the months he’d spent thinking about what he should’ve done.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said quietly, surprised by his own honesty. “I regret not asking for your number.”
Daisy blinked, startled by his straightforwardness. Then, slowly, she smiled — small, subtle, but unmistakably warm.
“Well,” she murmured, shifting her groceries into one hand, “you can ask now.”
Under the glamorous glow of a convenience store sign, with cold air filling the silence between them, Edward felt something settle inside him — a certainty he hadn’t allowed himself before.
This time, he wasn’t letting her slip away.
- Writer
