When Ana stepped back inside, the warmth of the farmhouse wrapped around her again—laughter, overlapping voices, the soft clink of glasses.
It felt… normal.
Almost too normal.
Ed was the first to notice her.
“You disappeared,” he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Suspicious behavior.” Ana walked closer, unfazed.
“You noticed?” “I notice everything,” he replied.
Kel, sitting across from him, didn’t look up immediately.
“That’s not true.” Ed scoffed.
“It is selectively true.” “That means it’s not true.” Yeon groaned from the side.
“Can you both not start again?” Ana sat down quietly, but this time— Ed shifted his chair slightly closer.
Not obvious.
But intentional.
His arm brushed lightly against hers for a second before settling on the table.
He didn’t comment on it.
Neither did she.
But the space between them changed.
Across the table, Kel finally looked up.
His gaze landed on Ana.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Simple.
Direct.
Ana met his eyes.
“Yeah.” A pause.
Kel held her gaze for just a second longer than necessary—like he was checking something unspoken.
Then he nodded.
“Good.” It was small.
But steady.
Outside, the night deepened, and someone suggested going out to the back fields.
“Come on,” Ed said, already standing.
“We didn’t come here to sit inside like old people.” “You are loud for someone who barely passed exams,” Kel muttered.
“I passed with style.” “That’s not how exams work.” “It is if you believe in yourself.” “That explains a lot.” Yeon laughed, pulling Jeon slightly by the sleeve.
“Let’s go before they start again.” Jeon followed without resistance.
But as they stepped outside, his eyes shifted briefly toward Yeon again.
Still thoughtful.
Still… a little unsettled.
The open land stretched wide under the night sky.
No city noise.
Just quiet wind and distant sounds.
Yeon wrapped her arms around herself slightly.
“It’s… really different here.” Jeon glanced at her.
“You don’t like it?” “It’s not that,” she said.
“It’s just… not my world.” That was honest.
Too honest.
Jeon didn’t answer immediately.
Then— “It doesn’t have to be,” he said.
Yeon looked at him.
He wasn’t trying to impress her.
He wasn’t apologizing either.
Just stating something simple.
“You’re here now,” he added.
That— shifted something.
Small.
But real.
Yeon looked away slightly, but a faint smile stayed.
“…You’re bad at saying things properly,” she muttered.
Jeon didn’t argue.
“I know.” A little further away, Ana had stepped aside again—not far, just enough to breathe.
Ed followed.
Of course he did.
“You do that a lot,” he said, stopping beside her.
“What?” “Disappear without saying anything.” Ana looked ahead.
“I come back.” Ed studied her for a moment.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly.
“You do.” A pause.
Then he stepped just a little closer.
Closer than before.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know,” he added.
Ana didn’t answer immediately.
Not because she disagreed.
But because she was considering it.
That was new.
“I know,” she said finally.
Ed’s expression softened—just slightly.
“Good,” he replied.
From a distance, Kel watched.
Not openly.
Not obviously.
But enough.
His gaze shifted between them—Ana and Ed, standing just a little too close, speaking just a little too quietly.
Something in his expression tightened.
Not anger.
Not regret.
Something quieter.
Something unresolved.
He looked away first.
Back near the house, near the faint glow of light spilling from inside— Park Seo-Ah stood by the doorway.
Watching.
Not interfering.
Not approaching.
Just observing the group as they spread across the field.
Her eyes paused briefly on Ana.
Then on Ed.
Then on Kel.
Calculating.
Not emotionally.
But structurally.
“…So that’s how it is,” she murmured under her breath.
Not judgment.
Just conclusion.
For now.
The night stretched on.
Laughter returned.
Voices overlapped.
And for a while— there were no hidden truths, no confrontations, no decisions waiting to be made.
Just five people, standing in the middle of something temporary— and not realizing yet how much this moment would matter later.