Chapter 6: The Thought That Stayed
1265 Words
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
It had been a week, yet the memory refused to leave him.
The details of the dream had already begun to fade, dissolving into something unclear and distant, but the feeling remained—sharp in a quiet way, lingering beneath the surface of his thoughts. It was not something he could explain easily, nor something he could dismiss.
So-jung closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, exhaling as he dragged a hand across his face. For the past seven days, he had tried not to think about it. He had gone about his routine, filled his time, distracted himself with things that normally kept him occupied. But it made no difference.
Every now and then, without warning, his mind would return to the same place.
To her.
Yevin.
Her name came to him effortlessly now, without resistance, as though it had already settled somewhere in his thoughts.
He turned slightly on the bed, his gaze shifting toward the window where the early morning light was beginning to filter through. The world outside was waking up, calm and ordinary, yet he felt anything but settled.
“This is getting out of hand,” he muttered quietly.
It irritated him—not because of the dream itself, but because of how easily it had stayed with him. He was not someone who held on to things like this. He moved on quickly, never allowing thoughts to linger longer than necessary.
But this was different.
And he didn’t like it.
---
By the time he arrived at the company, the familiar structure of the place had already taken over the morning. Employees moved with quiet efficiency, conversations remained low and controlled, and everything followed a rhythm that rarely changed.
So-jung stepped out of the elevator and walked down the corridor, his posture relaxed as usual, though his mind was elsewhere.
He didn’t bother knocking before entering Min-jae’s office.
Min-jae sat behind his desk, reviewing documents with his usual calm focus. The moment So-jung walked in, he acknowledged his presence without looking up.
“You’re early,” he said.
“I woke up early,” So-jung replied, taking a seat across from him.
That alone was unusual.
Min-jae paused, then lifted his gaze. His expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened slightly.
“You’ve been different,” he said.
So-jung leaned back in the chair, a faint smile forming on his lips. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s noticeable.”
There was no judgment in his tone, only quiet observation.
So-jung let out a small breath, glancing away for a moment before speaking again.
“When are we going back?”
---
This time, Min-jae looked at him properly.
“Back where?”
“You know where,” So-jung said, his tone casual, though the question itself wasn’t.
Min-jae leaned back slightly, studying him with calm precision. “You don’t like traveling. You’ve never liked it. You prefer staying here, doing whatever you want without being tied down.”
So-jung shrugged lightly. “People change.”
“That quickly?”
---
A brief silence followed.
So-jung shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze drifting toward the window before returning again.
“I just miss the place,” he said. “It was quieter there.”
Min-jae didn’t respond immediately. He watched him for a moment longer than usual, as if weighing the truth of those words.
Then he spoke.
“We’ll go when there’s business.”
“That could take time,” So-jung replied.
“Then you’ll wait.”
---
So-jung exhaled slowly, leaning back again as he ran a hand through his hair.
Waiting.
He didn’t like that answer.
Not because of the place—but because of what he wasn’t saying.
The truth was simple.
It wasn’t the place he wanted to return to.
It was someone there.
---
Yevin.
---
The thought came again, steady and uninvited.
Her expression. Her voice. The way she never gave him the reaction he expected, always meeting him head-on without hesitation.
He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh under his breath.
“…Still difficult.”
Min-jae glanced at him briefly, but didn’t ask.
---
The rest of the day passed as expected. Meetings came and went, decisions were made, documents were signed. For once, So-jung stayed through everything. He didn’t disappear midway or avoid responsibility the way he usually did.
But his mind was never fully present.
It kept drifting.
Returning.
Circling back.
---
By evening, the city lights had begun to glow beyond the tall glass windows of the office. The day had ended, but his thoughts hadn’t.
When he finally returned home, the quiet of his room felt heavier than usual.
He lay on his bed, one arm resting behind his head, his phone in his other hand. The screen lit up faintly as he stared at it, unmoving.
He unlocked it.
Locked it again.
Then sighed.
“This is pointless,” he murmured.
And yet, he didn’t put it down.
---
After a moment, he sat up slightly, his fingers moving across the screen.
He didn’t overthink it.
Didn’t try to find the right words.
He simply typed.
---
A simple message.
Direct.
Enough to break the silence between them.
---
He stared at it for a second before sending it.
---
Across the city, Yevin lay on her bed, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually helped her relax after a long day.
When the notification appeared, she frowned slightly.
An unknown number.
For a moment, she considered ignoring it.
Then she opened it.
---
Her eyes paused.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
---
She didn’t reply immediately.
Instead, she stared at the message, her expression calm but thoughtful. There was no surprise on her face, no visible reaction—just a quiet awareness.
She placed the phone beside her and looked up at the ceiling.
As if deciding.
---
Back in his room, So-jung watched his screen.
Waiting.
Not impatient.
Just aware.
---
Minutes passed.
Then, finally—
Her reply came.
---
It was short.
Simple.
Just enough to acknowledge him without giving anything away.
---
A faint smile formed on his lips.
There it was again.
That same attitude.
---
He replied.
This time more easily.
More naturally.
---
What followed wasn’t soft or easy.
Their words carried resistance, each response pushing back against the other. She didn’t agree with him, didn’t entertain him, didn’t respond the way he expected.
And he didn’t stop.
---
The conversation moved in that same rhythm—sharp, steady, almost like a quiet argument neither of them intended to win.
---
Eventually, it slowed.
Not because it ended.
But because neither of them rushed to continue it.
---
Still, neither of them left.
---
After a while, So-jung set his phone down and leaned back, his gaze returning to the ceiling.
“…Still difficult,” he murmured again, but this time there was no irritation in his voice.
Only something quieter.
Something that had been there for the past week, growing without him fully noticing.
---
He closed his eyes slowly.
The thought of her remained.
Not overwhelming.
Not restless.
Just there.
---
And this time—
He didn’t try to push it away.
---
Somewhere between that quiet thought and the stillness of the night, sleep came.
Not forced.
Not restless.
Just natural.
---
And for the first time in days—
His mind finally went quiet.
- Writer
