It rained that evening.
Not enough to flood the streets. Just enough to slow everything down and blur the lights outside the window.
Ha-rin sat at the dining table with a towel draped loosely over her shoulders, scrolling through her phone while the kettle heated. The volume was low. She wasn't hiding the screen, but she wasn't focused on it either.
I wiped the counter once more.
"…You missed a spot," she said.
I looked down.
"I did not."
She leaned forward and pointed. "Right there."
I stepped closer to check.
Before I could say anything, she reached out and wiped it herself with the edge of the towel.
"There," she said. "Now it's clean."
"That was unnecessary."
She shrugged. "You were slow."
The kettle clicked off.
She stood, poured the water carefully, then paused.
"…Can you grab that," she said, pointing at a mug just out of reach.
I handed it to her.
Our fingers brushed.
Neither of us reacted immediately.
"…You're warm," she said, then froze.
"I am indoors," I replied.
She stared at me for half a second.
"…That's not what I meant."
I waited.
She turned away first and carried the mugs back to the table.
She sat down beside me.
Not across.
Beside.
She took a sip, winced slightly, then laughed under her breath.
"…Too hot."
"Yes."
"…You always say things after they happen."
"That is when confirmation exists."
She rolled her eyes, but didn't move away.
A few seconds passed.
Then she shifted slightly.
"…Your sleeve," she said.
"What about it."
She tugged it once, smoothing a fold.
"There. It was bothering me."
"I did not notice."
"I did."
Her fingers stayed there.
I stayed still.
"…You're not going to comment," she said quietly.
"There is nothing to comment on."
She glanced at me.
"…You make this difficult."
"I am sitting."
She let out a short laugh and finally pulled her hand back.
Her ears were faintly red.
"…I'm tired."
"That is understandable."
She leaned back in her chair.
"…If I fall asleep here, wake me."
"Yes."
"…Gently."
"Yes."
She hesitated, then added more quietly,
"…You won't leave, right."
"No."
She nodded once.
Outside, the rain continued tapping against the glass.
She stayed where she was, mug cooling slowly in her hands.
At some point, her knee brushed against mine.
She noticed.
She didn't move it away.
Neither did I.
Minutes passed without either of us checking the time.
Nothing important happened.
And somehow, that felt important.