Chapter 8
Even after four years apart, the moment he recognized her, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself in disbelief. Then, without hesitation, he stepped out of the driver’s seat.
Haein hadn’t yet noticed Jeong-ho. She had just stepped out the gate and stopped there, standing still, staring down at her phone. Her brows were drawn together in that familiar little furrow she always made when focusing.
She hasn’t changed a bit.
Four years might as well have vanished. Watching her, unchanged, Jeong-ho’s lips curved into a faint smile.
Just a moment ago, he had been asking himself what on earth he was doing here. But all his earlier annoyance had melted away. On his face now lingered no trace of that frustration—only something softer.
Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, her makeup minimal. Over her simple dress she had thrown on a light knit cardigan. She looked almost exactly the same as the Haein he remembered from four years ago.
And yet… there was something different about her. Once, she had seemed eternally like a little girl, fresh and youthful. Now, Jeong-ho sensed a subtle unfamiliarity, a quiet shift that unsettled him.
Probably just my imagination.
He brushed away the thought, leaned casually against the car, and simply watched her. At last, when she lowered her phone, he began to walk toward her.
“It’s been a while, little lady.”
“…Who—oh?”
“What’s with that face, like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Haein’s eyes widened as she lifted her gaze.
“Wait… oppa? What are you doing here…?”
“At least you still remember me. That’s a relief.”
“Have you… been well?”
It was the kind of stock phrase anyone would say when meeting someone after a long absence. Polite, easy, predictable.
But from her, it carried something else—awkwardness, discomfort, the unprepared shock of running into someone she hadn’t braced herself to see.
So she didn’t steel herself for this after all. Even coming back to Korea, she wasn’t ready.
“That’s your first line to me?”
“It was just so sudden,” she admitted with a strained smile.
“Tell me, Haein… am I making you uncomfortable?”
“…It’s just… been a while.”
“Haven’t we known each other longer than we’ve been apart?”
They had been engaged for over ten years. Four years apart couldn’t erase that. And yet here she was, looking at him as if he were a stranger. Jeong-ho didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Four years was enough to outweigh those ten,” she countered, her voice steady.
Her gaze was proud, unapologetic.
“…Listen to you. When did my little one learn to talk like that?”
His easy laugh broke through the tension, his smile effortlessly charming. Even the sharp edge of her wariness began to dull against his natural confidence.
“Were you waiting for me to come out?” she asked.
“I just needed confirmation. That you really came back.”
“…So you came just to see with your own eyes?”
She had already guessed, and her expression told him so.
“That’s right. No one else was going to tell me the truth.”
“You could’ve just called me.”
Jeong-ho’s lips curled in a crooked smile, his eyes locking onto hers.
“Call the fiancée who ditched everything and ran away with another man?”
How did it come to this?
She had planned to meet Jeong-ho eventually, to face him properly. She had even scheduled it in her mind. But one chance encounter had shattered her careful plans.
Yet, looking into his eyes now, she saw no resentment. Not even a flicker of blame. Instead, he seemed… indifferent. Calm. Almost too calm.
Haein’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.
“So the family was right. He really did cut himself off from our house these past four years. To him, I was only worth that much.”
Still… if their engagement was truly intact, then—
“Don’t worry. Dad will take care of it soon.”
But if it could’ve been handled so easily, then why had it remained unresolved for four years? That could only mean one thing: breaking it off wasn’t simple. And Haein was no longer naïve enough to miss that.
No—the only way forward was to face him directly. That was the only way to untangle anything.
“Where were you going, leaving the house at this hour?” he asked.
“Oh, just to see a friend for a bit.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?”
“It’s fine. She lives alone anyway.”
It was meddling, and unnecessary. Haein, no longer a teenager, was too tired to argue over every word.
“Hm. I guess I shouldn’t be calling you little one anymore,” he remarked.
“Good. I’m glad you don’t still see me as a child.”
Her tone carried a bite, but he suddenly leaned closer, close enough that her breath caught.
“What kind of lunatic kisses a child, anyway?”
Her face flamed. “Why bring that up now—?”
“It’s not the past. I’m still your fiancé, Haein.”
The sudden closeness made her stumble back. But before she could retreat, his arm slipped naturally around her shoulder, steadying her. With his other hand, he gestured toward the car.
“Let’s go. We can talk inside.”
“No… I’ll call you soon. We can meet another time.”
“What, are you scared of me now?”
“Of course not. I’m just… tired today.”
But he didn’t budge.
“Relax. I’ll drop you off quickly.”
“It’s late—”
“Four years, Haein. Don’t you think you owe me at least that much?”
There was nothing left to say. She had been the one who left. She had blindsided him. She had run away.
So, finally, she relented and followed him across the street to his black sedan. Sliding into the passenger seat, she placed her bag carefully on her lap. The space felt both foreign and familiar at once.
She glanced sideways at him. His slim-fit suit, his hair neatly swept back, the cool, unreadable eyes—it was all exactly as she remembered.
“So. How did you spend those four years?”
“Nothing special. Just… more studying. Catching up.”
She shared a little of her life in England—enough to be honest, though not everything.
“Good. Looks like you had a fun time.”
“…Why is that good?”
He only smirked.
“Who knows? Why do you think it is?”
There was something strange in his tone, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The enclosed space, the two of them alone—it dragged her mind back to their last meeting.
To that dizzying, suffocating first kiss.
Heat rushed to her face, and she forced herself to keep her voice steady.
“How are your parents? Uncle and aunt?”
“You can ask them yourself soon enough.”
He brushed the question aside, evasive.
“They must’ve been so disappointed in me.”
“Actually, the family all blamed my scandals for driving you away.”
“…I can’t say they were completely wrong. It was… stressful for me, too.”
The quiet confession slipped out before she could stop herself. His gaze sharpened, surprised, cutting into her like a blade.
