The bathroom light was too bright.
Ha-rin stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary, hands resting on the sink, shoulders slightly tense.
She stared at her reflection.
Nothing dramatic had changed.
That was the strange part.
Her face looked the same.Her hair was tied the same way.Her eyes still held that familiar sharpness.
And yet—
She tugged the fabric of her shirt down slightly.
It resisted.
Not enough to be obvious.Enough to be undeniable.
"…Huh," she murmured.
She turned sideways, just a little, inspecting the curve that wasn't quite a curve yet. If she didn't know what she was looking for, she could've ignored it.
But she did know.
She placed her hand there without thinking.
Then froze.
Slowly, she pulled it away.
"…I'm not supposed to do that," she muttered, as if someone might hear.
The room was silent.
She let out a breath and leaned back against the counter.
This is real.
The thought didn't scare her the way it used to.
It weighed more.
She remembered the screen.The movement.The sound.
Her fingers curled lightly.
I really saw you.
She straightened again, smoothing her shirt like she was preparing for an audience.
"…Get it together," she told her reflection.
The reflection didn't argue.
She stepped out of the bathroom and into her room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her phone lay face-down beside her.
Messages could wait.
For once, she didn't feel like running from the thought.
She lay back slowly, careful without realizing she was being careful.
The ceiling looked the same as always.
Nothing changed, she thought.And everything did.
There was a knock at the door.
Soft.Deliberate.
"…Yes," she said.
The door opened just enough for him to look in.
"…Are you okay," he asked.
"Yes."
She paused.
"…I think."
He nodded.
"That is acceptable."
She sat up, patting the space beside her.
"…You can sit."
He did.
They didn't touch.
They didn't need to.
"…I keep thinking I'll mess this up," she said quietly.
"That is expected."
"…You keep saying that."
"Yes."
"…It's annoying."
"I know."
She smiled faintly.
"…But you're still here."
"Yes."
She glanced at him, then away.
"…I'm not ready to be brave," she admitted.
"That is fine," he replied. "You do not need bravery yet."
"…Then what do I need."
He considered.
"…Time," he said. "And consistency."
She nodded slowly.
"…You're good at consistency."
"That is accurate."
She exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a little.
Her hand drifted again—halfway—then stopped.
She noticed.
He noticed too.
Neither said anything.
"…I'll be ready," she said suddenly. "Eventually."
"Yes."
"…You don't even hesitate."
"There is no reason to."
She lay back again, staring at the ceiling.
"…Okay."
Just that.
Okay.
Outside her room, the house continued as usual.
Inside, something settled into place.
Not acceptance.
Not yet.
But the beginning of it.