The obsidian ring on Yuna’s finger was more than a promise; it was a compass, orienting them toward a future they were now building with deliberate hands. But a life cannot be built by two people alone. The world, which they had kept at a careful distance, began to gently press in, its threads seeking to weave into the fabric of their new existence.
The first thread was Kang Mira. She arrived at the apartment one Saturday afternoon, her arms laden with bags from a luxury department store and her energy filling the quiet space like a burst of confetti.
“Okay, the secret’s out, my darlings,” she announced, dropping the bags unceremoniously onto the sofa. “The press has finally stopped camping outside my office, which means it’s time for phase two: re-entry. And you,” she said, pointing a p
