The wardrobe door stayed open longer than it should have.
Ha-rin stood in front of it, arms crossed, eyes scanning clothes she had worn a hundred times before.
None of them felt right.
"…This one's too tight," she said, holding up a blouse before letting it fall back into place.
"It was fine last month," I replied.
"…Last month doesn't count."
She pulled another hanger forward, then pushed it back without trying it.
"…This one makes me look tired."
"That is because you are tired," I said.
She turned to glare at me.
"…You're not helping."
"I am being accurate."
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, the fabric of her shirt creasing slightly when she did. She noticed it immediately, smoothing it down with more care than necessary.
I noticed.
I did not comment.
"…They didn't say what the meeting is about," she muttered. "That's what bothers me."
"That is intentional," I replied. "Vagueness creates pressure."
"…I hate that you say things like that so calmly."
"It is better than pretending otherwise."
She leaned back on her hands, staring at the ceiling.
"…What if they've already decided something."
"Then the meeting is procedural," I said. "Not exploratory."
"…And if they haven't."
"Then they are gathering information."
She closed her eyes.
"…I don't like being information."
"That reaction is reasonable."
She sat up again, restless, and stood.
"…I should wear something loose," she said. "…Professional. Neutral."
"Yes."
"…Not suspicious."
"That will depend on observation," I replied, "not clothing."
She groaned softly.
"…You're impossible."
"That has been established."
She grabbed a light cardigan and slipped it on, checking herself in the mirror. From the front, nothing stood out. From the side—only if you were looking carefully.
She turned toward me.
"…Does this look normal."
"Yes."
"…Normal normal?"
"Yes."
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded.
"…Okay."
She moved to the table where her bag rested, opening it and closing it again without checking anything inside.
"…You'll wait nearby tomorrow," she said.
"Yes."
"…Not inside."
"No."
"…And you won't come in unless I call."
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"…If I don't call."
"Then I will continue waiting," I said.
"…You make it sound like nothing."
"It is not nothing," I replied. "It is simply manageable."
She let out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound.
"…You really believe that."
"Yes."
She adjusted the strap of her bag and took a slow breath.
"…I didn't think preparing would feel heavier than the meeting itself," she said.
"That is anticipation," I replied. "The meeting is action."
"…I prefer action."
"That is consistent with your career."
She smiled faintly at that.
From the kitchen, my mother's voice called gently, reminding her not to skip dinner.
Ha-rin picked up her bag and moved toward the door, then stopped there, fingers tightening briefly around the strap.
"…If tomorrow goes badly," she said quietly, "…promise me something."
"Yes."
"…Don't say 'I told you so.'"
"That was never an option."
She nodded once.
"…Okay."
She didn't leave.
She just stood there for a moment longer, then turned back inside.
The meeting was scheduled for the next morning.