The living room had officially surrendered to chaos.
"Come here!" Arisoo called out, breathless, chasing a tiny whirlwind around the couch.
That whirlwind was Nikki.
"I'm fast!" Nikki giggled, darting past her again, bare legs flashing as he zigzagged away.
"You're five, not a legend!" Arisoo shot back, trying to grab him and missing by inches.
Round the couch.
Again.
"Wait—Nikki—!"
"No!"
"Your pants—!"
"No pants!"
The universe had rules.
Nikki had rejected all of them.
Then—
The kitchen door opened.
Ji-Ah stepped out holding a bowl of snacks… and paused.
She watched the madness for exactly two seconds.
Then calmly walked forward.
Placed the bowl neatly on the center table.
Right on time.
Nikki sprinted straight toward her—
And got caught mid-flight.
"—Aunt Ji-Ji let go!" he protested, wriggling.
"Not today," Ji-Ah replied coolly.
In one smooth motion, she pulled up his pajama pants and secured them like she'd done this a hundred times.
"There."
She leaned in slightly, voice soft.
"Dignity restored."
Nikki pouted.
"…Fine."
Then immediately abandoned the moment and dove toward the snacks.
Ji-Ah ruffled his hair.
"Go. Celebrate your defeat."
"I didn't lose!"
"You absolutely did."
At that exact moment—
A white blur leapt onto the couch.
Graceful.
Fluffy.
Unbothered.
Type landed beside the bowl like she owned the place.
Which, honestly, she did.
Nikki beamed.
"Type!"
He patted her gently, already munching chips.
Type blinked slowly, tail curling, accepting both affection and crumbs like royalty accepting tribute.
Arisoo pointed at the cat.
"…Explain."
Ji-Ah didn't even hesitate.
"Ha-Joon gave her to me."
Arisoo blinked.
"…Her name is Type?"
Ji-Ah grimaced.
"I didn't name her."
A beat.
Then they both laughed.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Until it settled into something warm.
But the warmth didn't last.
Ji-Ah's expression shifted.
Quiet.
Thoughtful.
She reached into her pocket.
"…Arisoo."
Arisoo looked up.
Ji-Ah held out the ring.
And the letter.
"Who is Han Ji-Ah?"
The room stilled.
Even Nikki slowed down his chewing.
Arisoo froze.
Blinking.
"…Where did you hear that name?"
Ji-Ah didn't answer.
She just handed her the letter.
Arisoo took it slowly.
Read.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
A breath caught.
"She's…" Arisoo began, then stopped.
"…someone very close to Ha-Joon."
Ji-Ah's gaze didn't move.
"How close?"
A small pause.
Arisoo looked up.
"She was his wife."
The words fell softly.
But they stayed.
Ji-Ah blinked once.
"…What happened to her?"
Arisoo exhaled.
"She passed away."
A longer pause.
"In a fire."
Ji-Ah's grip on the edge of the couch tightened.
"The company," Arisoo continued quietly. "Before it was rebuilt."
Type shifted slightly, curling into herself as if even she felt the change in the room.
"They were married for two years," Arisoo said, her voice gentler now. "But… it felt like more."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"They were inseparable."
She glanced at Ji-Ah.
"They were both artists."
"He painted."
"She played the piano. And sang."
Something clicked.
Soft.
Sharp.
"The piano…" Ji-Ah murmured.
"The way he said she played…"
She exhaled slowly.
"Everything makes sense now."
Her voice dropped.
"…Is that why?"
Arisoo nodded.
"Why he doesn't want to get close to anyone."
"Why he won't marry again."
A quiet beat.
"But now…" her tone tightened slightly, "Mother is forcing him."
Ji-Ah's eyes sharpened.
"…to marry Yoo-Na."
Silence.
Then—
"No."
Ji-Ah's voice cut clean through it.
Arisoo looked at her.
Ji-Ah didn't blink.
"He will get married."
A small pause.
Her grip tightened slightly around the ring.
"Just not to her."
Arisoo tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Ji-Ah didn't hesitate.
"I know Ha-Joon Sir," she said, folding her arms, confidence sitting comfortably on her shoulders. "He won't get married like this. Not forced."
She leaned back a little.
"So we just have to find him the perfect woman."
A simple statement.
Like she was talking about picking snacks, not rearranging someone's entire life.
Arisoo blinked once.
Then again.
"…I have one."
Ji-Ah's eyes lit up slightly.
"Really? Who?"
Arisoo smiled.
Calm.
Certain.
"You."
Silence.
A very loud silence.
Even Type paused mid-tail flick, as if she too needed a moment to process that.
Ji-Ah stared.
One second.
Two.
Then—
She laughed.
"Good joke."
A step back.
"Good joke."
Another step.
"Good joke, really."
Her laughter echoed a little too brightly, like it was trying to convince the room.
Arisoo didn't laugh.
She just watched her.
Ji-Ah pointed at herself.
"Me? Him?"
She shook her head, still smiling.
"That's comedy."
She turned slightly, pacing once.
"No, no, no. Let's stay serious, please."
Arisoo crossed her arms.
"I am."
Ji-Ah stopped.
Turned back slowly.
The smile on her face thinned.
"…You're not joking."
"No."
A beat.
The room felt smaller somehow.
Ji-Ah exhaled once, short.
Then scoffed lightly.
"That's ridiculous."
She gestured vaguely.
"He barely tolerates me."
A pause.
"Actually, no—he doesn't tolerate me."
Arisoo raised a brow.
"And yet," she said softly, "you're the one he trusts."
Ji-Ah blinked.
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Ji-Ah opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again—
"…Yes."
Arisoo stepped closer, her voice gentler now.
"He gave you the house."
A step closer.
"He gave you Type."
Type, right on cue, stretched like she had just been summoned into evidence.
"And," Arisoo added, glancing briefly at the ring in Ji-Ah's hand, "you walked into a fire for him."
That one landed.
Ji-Ah looked away.
"That was different."
Her voice quieter now.
Arisoo didn't push.
She just said,
"Maybe."
A small pause.
Then, softer still—
"Or maybe you're just the only one he hasn't closed the door on."
Ji-Ah's fingers tightened slightly around the ring.
Her gaze dropped.
Then she scoffed again, but this time… it lacked bite.
"…Still a bad idea."
Arisoo smiled faintly.
"Maybe."
A beat.
"But it's the only one that doesn't break him."
BACK AT THE HOSPITAL...
The hospital room was quiet again.
Soft light spilled across the white sheets where Ha-Joon sat propped up, looking… unusually obedient.
Which was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Beside him, Min-Hyuk held a bowl and a spoon, feeding him.
One spoon.
Pause.
Another spoon.
No teasing.
No complaints.
No dramatic commentary.
Just… silent feeding.
Ha-Joon blinked slowly.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He chewed, then looked at his brother.
"…What happened?"
Min-Hyuk didn't look at him.
"I'm pissed."
Ha-Joon rolled his eyes lightly.
Of course.
"Why?"
Another spoon.
This time, a little more forceful than necessary.
"What if something had happened to you? didn't you think about us once? about me?"
Min-Hyuk suddenly snapped, finally looking at him. "What if Ji-Ah didn't go in there?"
His voice tightened.
"You had to play the hero."
Another spoon.
"Running into fire like it's nothing. Tch.. am so angry at you."
Ha-Joon didn't interrupt.
Didn't joke.
"…Sorry Min-Hyuk," he said quietly, softly.
But Min-Hyuk wasn't done.
"And not just that."
He paused, frowning.
"You called Seo-Yeon poor."
The word hung there.
Heavy.
Accusing.
Ha-Joon sighed and looked away, jaw tightening slightly.
"I said it because of Ji-Ah."
Min-Hyuk blinked.
"…What?"
Ha-Joon leaned back a little, eyes unfocused.
"If I didn't shut her up," he muttered, "she would've forced me into marriage for your sake."
A small pause.
Then, quieter—
"And I'm not ready."
That was the truth.
Plain.
Unpolished.
Min-Hyuk stared at him for a moment.
The anger in his eyes softened.
Just a little.
"…I like Seo-Yeon," he said.
A pause.
"But if you're not ready…"
He sighed.
"…then we wait."
Ha-Joon glanced at him.
Min-Hyuk lifted the spoon again.
"But still," he added, pointing it slightly at him, "don't insult her again."
A beat.
"Or Ji-Ah."
Ha-Joon held his gaze for a second.
Then nodded.
"…Okay."
This time—
When Min-Hyuk brought the spoon forward—
He smiled.
Small.
But real.
And Ha-Joon noticed.