Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lena's eyes fluttered open, vision blurry as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. This wasn't her bedroom. The sheets were dark gray instead of her usual pastel blue, and the room had a distinctly masculine energy—minimalist furniture, a sleek laptop on a desk in the corner, and clothes that definitely weren't hers strewn across a chair.

Memories from the previous night flooded back. The bar. Annette introducing her to Raiden's friend. Shinei Nouzen. The man with intense eyes and an even more intense presence. The drinks. The conversations that had grown increasingly personal. The electric touch of his hand on the small of her back as they'd left together. The way his chiseled body pressed against hers.

Lena bolted upright, suddenly wide awake.

"Oh no," she whispered, frantically searching for her phone. She found it on the nightstand, battery nearly dead. It was 9:17 AM.

"No, no, no!" She was supposed to meet Annette for breakfast at 9:30. They had been planning this brunch at the new café downtown for weeks.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Shin appeared with two mugs of coffee. His dark hair was tousled, and he wore only sweatpants, his toned chest bare. Despite her panic, Lena couldn't help but appreciate the view.

"You're awake," he said, his deep voice still rough with sleep. "I made coffee."

"I'm so late," Lena blurted out, clutching the sheet to her chest. "I have to meet my friend in thirteen minutes across town."

Shin nodded, setting the coffee down. "Bathroom's through there. I put a new toothbrush on the counter for you."

"Thank you," she said, gathering the sheet around her like a makeshift dress and scanning the floor for her scattered clothing.

Shin cleared his throat. "Your dress is... I think it's in the living room." A hint of color touched his cheeks. "I'll get it for you."

As he left, Lena made a dash for the bathroom, nearly tripping over the sheet. She brushed her teeth in record time, splashed water on her face, and attempted to tame her silver hair with her fingers. The woman in the mirror looked disheveled yet glowing.

When she emerged, her dress and undergarments were neatly folded outside the door. She changed quickly and hurried to the living room, where Shin was waiting with her purse and a travel mug.

"I transferred your coffee," he explained, handing her the mug. "And called you a rideshare. It should be here in two minutes."

"You're a lifesaver," Lena said, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. She took the mug, their fingers brushing. "About last night..."

Shin ran a hand through his hair. "It was... nice."

"It was," she agreed, a smile playing on her lips.

An awkward silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Were they going to see each other again? Should they exchange numbers? Did he even want to?

A notification chimed on his phone. "Your ride is here."

They moved to the door, both seemingly waiting for the other to make a move.

"I should go," she said, lingering at the threshold.

"You should," he agreed, but made no move to open the door.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, ask for her number perhaps, but the moment passed.

"Thanks for the coffee," Lena said, gesturing with the travel mug. "And... everything."

"Anytime," Shin replied, then winced slightly at how casual that sounded. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean," she said with a small smile. "Goodbye, Shin."

"Goodbye, Lena."

With that, she turned and hurried to her waiting ride, her heart pounding in her chest, silently wishing she had been brave enough to give him her number.

Shin closed the door behind her and walked back to his living room in a daze. He collapsed onto the couch, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"I should have asked for her number," he muttered to himself, frustration evident in his voice. The memory of her silver hair spread across his pillow, her laughter when he made a dry joke, the gentle way she touched his face in the darkness. It all refused to fade from his mind.

He picked up his coffee mug, now cold, and took a sip anyway. Frederica would be home by evening, brought back by Anju and Dustin, and life would return to normal. Except he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just let something important slip through his fingers.

Lena nearly tumbled out of the rideshare, clutching her travel mug of lukewarm coffee as she rushed into the café. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully, announcing her arrival as she scanned the crowded space. She spotted Annette at a corner table by the window, scrolling through her phone with a half-eaten croissant on her plate.

"I'm so sorry," Lena said breathlessly, sliding into the chair across from her friend. "I'm terrible, I know."

Annette looked up, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took in Lena's unruly appearance. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." She checked her watch. "Only twenty minutes late. Not your worst showing."

"You're too kind," Lena groaned, setting down the travel mug and dropping her purse beside her chair. "Have you ordered already?"

"Just the croissant. I was waiting for you before getting my main." Annette waved over a server. "But more importantly, you're wearing the same clothes as last night, and your hair is doing that thing it does when you haven't had time to brush it properly."

Lena's hand flew to her hair self-consciously. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's known you since you were little," Annette replied with a smirk. "So, Shinei Nouzen, huh?"

The sound of his name sent an unexpected flutter through Lena's chest. "We were all at the bar together. I didn't think you noticed us talking."

"Honey, everyone noticed. The way you two were looking at each other, I'm surprised the bar didn't catch fire." Annette leaned forward. "So? How was it? Was he good in bed?"

"ANNETTE!"

The server suddenly arrived to take their orders, giving Lena a moment to calm down and collect her thoughts. After ordering avocado toast and an extra-large coffee, she took a deep breath.

"It was..." Lena paused, searching for the right word. Images from the night before flashed through her mind—his confident hands, the intensity in his eyes, the way he'd whisper her name. "It was unexpected."

"That's not an answer and you know it," Annette said, stirring her tea.

Lena sighed. "He was... different than I expected. Not just physically, though—" she lowered her voice, "—that part was definitely worth experiencing."

"I knew it," Annette said triumphantly. "Raiden always said the quiet ones are the most surprising."

"It wasn't just that," Lena insisted, though her face flushed at the memory. "He was considerate. This morning he made coffee, called me a ride, even gave me this travel mug. And last night, he was actually interesting to talk to. Not like the other guys you've tried to set me up with."

Annette didn't reply, she just turned her head and pouted.

Their food soon arrived, but Lena found herself picking at her avocado toast without much appetite. Her mind kept drifting back to Shin's apartment, to the feeling of waking up beside him.

After a few minutes of silence, Annette set down her fork. "Okay seriously, what's going on? You haven't even said three words about your first graders, and you always have at least one funny story about them by this point."

Lena looked up, surprised to realize that Annette was right. She hadn't thought about her classroom or her students once since waking up. "I guess I'm just distracted."

"He made that much of an impression, huh?" Annette's tone had softened, no longer teasing.

"Is that crazy?" Lena asked, setting down her fork. "It was just one night. I don't even have his number."

"Did you want it?"

"Yes," Lena admitted. "But there was this moment at the door, and neither of us made a move, and then my ride was there, and..." She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it's for the best. Getting involved with someone right now, with the school year just starting and everything..."

"Lena," Annette said firmly, "when was the last time you even went on a date, let alone spent the night with someone who made you this.....contemplative the next day?"

Lena couldn't remember. Her work as a teacher consumed most of her time and energy. Between lesson plans, parent meetings, and actually teaching, there wasn't much room for dating.

"Exactly," Annette said, reading her silence. "So maybe this is a good thing. And who knows? Maybe you'll run into him again."

"I doubt it." Lena took a bite of her toast. "Besides, what would I even say? 'Hey, remember that night we hooked up? Want to do it again sometime?'"

"Why not?" Annette shrugged. "Life's too short to play games."

Lena's phone buzzed with a reminder about tomorrow's lesson plan. Reality came crashing back. Tomorrow she'd be Miss Miliźe again, teaching twenty first graders the difference between nouns and verbs.

"It doesn't matter," she said, silencing the notification. "It was one night. A great night. A really really great night, but just one. I should focus on what's important."

"And what's that?" Annette challenged.

Lena opened her mouth to respond with her usual answer—her students, her career, her responsibilities, but found herself hesitating. For the first time in a while, she wasn't entirely sure.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But you're right, Shin definitely left an impression."

Annette smiled, raising her teacup in a mock toast. "To the mysterious Shinei Nouzen, wherever he is right now."

"To Shin," Lena echoed softly, lifting her coffee. She wondered if she'd ever see him again.

The next day, Shin sat hunched over his keyboard, fingers flying across the keys as he updated the security knowledge base articles. The internship program was Willem's pet project, and Shin had been tasked with creating comprehensive documentation for the newcomers.

"Remember to keep it simple enough for beginners," Willem had said. "Not everyone thinks like you do, Nouzen."

Shin sighed at the screen. How was he supposed to simplify the complexities of offensive cyber practices.

His phone vibrated on the desk, nearly falling off the edge. Shin caught it and glanced at the notification.

PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE - 3:30 PM (20 MINUTES)

"Shit," he muttered, suddenly remembering. Frederica's first parent-teacher conference of the year. How could he have forgotten? Anju had reminded him just yesterday when dropping Fred off.

Shin stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. He'd been so distracted since yesterday morning, since Lena, that he'd completely lost track of his schedule.

"Leaving already?" Willem appeared in the doorway of his office, a knowing smile on his face. "Hot date?"

"Parent-teacher conference," Shin replied, shutting down his computer. "Fred's school."

Willem's eyebrows shot up. "That's today? I thought I was the forgetful one when it came to school stuff." He checked his watch. "You're going to be late."

"I know." Shin grabbed his keys. "I'll finish the documentation tonight after Fred's in bed."

"Don't worry about it," Willem waved him off. "Being a dad comes first. I learned that the hard way after missing our daughter's first school play. Grethe made me sleep in the dog house for two nights."

Shin, not knowing how to respond, nodded and rushed past his boss down the corridor and to the elevator. He jabbed the button repeatedly, as if that would make it arrive faster. When it finally did, he found himself sharing the ride down with Myna from Accounting, who tried to engage him in small talk about the weekend.

"Rough day, Shin?" she asked, eyeing his appearance with a hint of amusement. "You look like you're running from something."

An image of silver hair spread across his pillow flashed through Shin's mind. "Parent-teacher conference," he replied tersely. "I'm late."

"Ah, the joys of parenthood," Myna said with a knowing smile. "My twins have conferences next week. Their teacher already emailed me a list of 'discussion points.'" She made air quotes with her fingers.

Shin merely grunted in response, watching the floor numbers tick down with agonizing slowness.

"How's little Frederica doing in first grade?" Myna pressed on, seemingly oblivious to his desire for silence.

"Fine," Shin said, then added reluctantly, "She likes her teacher."

"That's half the battle right there," Myna replied. "My boys hated their teacher last year. Made mornings a nightmare."

The moment the elevator doors opened, Shin bolted for the parking garage. He flung himself into his car, a sleek black sedan that Raiden had helped pick out.

The engine roared to life, and Shin peeled out of the parking garage, narrowly missing a concrete pillar. The digital clock on his dashboard read 3:17 PM. The school was fifteen minutes away in normal traffic, which meant he needed to find shortcuts.

Shin swerved onto a side street, cutting around the main thoroughfare. His mind raced as fast as his car.

What was Fred's teacher's name again? Miss... something. I know it started with an M. Frederica had mentioned it dozens of times.

He weaved between cars, earning several honks and at least one obscene gesture. Shin ignored them all. He promised Frederica he'd be a great father, who would always be there for her no matter what. He wasn't going to break that promise.

At a red light, Shin impatiently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His phone buzzed again: 10 MINUTES TO PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCE.

"I know, I know," he muttered, as if the phone could hear him.

The light turned green, and Shin accelerated, cutting across two lanes to make a sharp right turn. He was getting close now, just a few blocks away from Frederica's school.

His mind drifted momentarily to what Fred had told him about her teacher. "She's really pretty, Dad," his daughter had said one day over dinner. "And super smart. She knows everything about everything."

Shin had smiled at his daughter's enthusiasm. Fred hadn't been this excited about school before. Her previous school had been a struggle. The other kids had teased her about not having a mother, and the teachers hadn't been particularly understanding of her situation. This new school, with this new teacher, seemed to be a turning point in her life.

He couldn't mess this up.

Shin pulled into the school parking lot at 3:32 PM, grimacing at his lateness. He parked quickly, probably taking up two spaces, but there was no time to fix it. Grabbing his phone and keys, he sprinted toward the main entrance.

The elementary school was littered with primary colors and children's artwork. Directional signs pointed to "First Grade - Room 103." Shin followed them, his pace slowing only slightly as he navigated the hallways. He passed a bulletin board covered in handprints and heart-shaped cutouts, each bearing a child's name. He spotted "Frederica N." in the corner, her handprint notably smaller than most of her classmates'.

Room 103 was at the end of the corridor. Shin paused outside, catching his breath and straightening his jacket. He ran a hand through his windblown hair, trying to look somewhat presentable.

Through the small window in the door, he could see a teacher at her desk, checking her watch. Her back was to him, but something about her seemed oddly familiar. The elegant posture, the silver hair cascading down her back...

Shin's heart stuttered in his chest.

It couldn't be.

He pushed open the door, and the teacher turned toward him with a professional smile that froze momentarily on her face the moment their eyes met. In an instant, though, she recovered, her expression settling into something deliberately neutral.

"You must be Mr. Nouzen," she said, her voice steady despite the flicker of recognition in her eyes. "I'm Miss Miliźe, Frederica's teacher."

Shin stood completely still, unable to believe what he was seeing. The woman from the bar. The same woman who was in his bed. That very woman who had been occupying his thoughts for the past thirty-six hours.

"Yes," he finally managed to say, extending his hand. "Sorry I'm late."

When their hands touched, he felt a jolt travel up his arm. Her hand trembled slightly in his, but her professional smile remained firmly in place.

"Not a problem at all," Lena replied, withdrawing her hand perhaps a bit too quickly. "Frederica just stepped out to use the restroom. She should be back any moment."

An awkward silence fell between them. Shin could see the questions in her eyes, the same ones racing through his mind. What were the odds? How had neither of them mentioned their professions or his daughter during their night together? What did this mean for them now?

"Please, have a seat," Lena gestured to the chair in front of her desk, her teacher voice firmly in place.

Shin sat down, feeling absurdly large in the child-sized chair. Lena returned to her seat across the desk, putting a safe professional distance between them.

"So," she began, shuffling some papers in front of her, "about Frederica—"

"Before we start," Shin interrupted, keeping his voice low, "I think we should acknowledge—"

The door burst open, and Frederica marched in, her jet-black hair bouncing with each step. "Dad! You came!" she exclaimed, throwing herself at him.

Shin caught his daughter in a hug, meeting Lena's eyes over Frederica's shoulder. The message in his gaze was clear. We'll talk about this later.

Lena gave an almost imperceptible nod before turning her attention to Frederica. "Your father was just arriving, Fred. Perfect timing."

"Did you tell him how good I am at spelling?" Frederica asked, climbing onto Shin's lap. "I got all the words right on Friday's test!"

"I was just about to show him your excellent work," Lena replied, her professional demeanor firmly back in place as she pulled out a folder with Frederica's name on it. If Shin hadn't known better, he would never have guessed that less than 48 hours ago, this composed teacher had been in his bed, moaning his name.

"Mr. Nouzen," Lena continued, her eyes meeting his briefly before focusing on the papers in front of her. "Frederica has been doing exceptionally well in her reading comprehension..."

As she began reviewing his daughter's academic progress, Shin tried to focus on the information being presented rather than on the surreal situation he found himself in. Frederica occasionally interjected with enthusiastic comments about her class projects or friends, oblivious to the tension crackling between the adults.

When the conference concluded twenty minutes later, Lena stood and extended her hand again. "Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Nouzen. It was... informative meeting you in person."

"Likewise, Miss Miliźe," Shin replied, his voice carefully even. "Frederica speaks very highly of you."

"She's a joy to have in class," Lena said, her eyes softening as she looked at the little girl. "Frederica, would you mind taking this note to Ms. Shiroka across the hall? It's about our field trip next week."

Frederica nodded eagerly, taking the folded piece of paper. "Be right back, Dad!"

As soon as she left the room, Lena and Shin turned to each other.

"I had no idea—" they both began simultaneously, then stopped.

"This is..." Shin started.

"Complicated," Lena finished.

"To say the least," he agreed.

"We should probably talk," she said quietly. "But not here."

Shin nodded. "I have your necklace by the way" he offered lamely.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Is that your way of suggesting we meet again?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "Though under significantly different circumstances."

Footsteps approached the door, and they quickly stepped away from each other.

"We'll figure this out," Lena whispered hurriedly, just before Frederica reentered the room.

"Ms. Shiroka says thank you!" Frederica announced, skipping back to her father's side. "Can we get ice cream now, Dad? You promised if I had a good report."

"You definitely earned it," Shin smiled, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. He looked back at Lena one last time. "Thank you for your time, Miss Miliźe."

"My pleasure, Mr. Nouzen," Lena replied, her professional mask back in place. "Have a good evening."

As Shin guided Frederica out of the classroom, his mind was racing. He'd spent the past day and a half thinking about Lena, regretting not getting her number, wondering if he'd ever see her again.

Well, he certainly found her. And now he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

The moment the door closed behind them, Lena's professional composure crumbled. She collapsed into her chair, buried her head in her arms on the desk, and let out a muffled groan of disbelief.

"This is not happening," she whispered to the empty classroom. "This cannot be happening."

She lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on her forearms as she stared blankly at the alphabet chart across the room. The colorful letters blurred as her mind reeled, trying to process the coincidence.

Shinei Nouzen. The man whose bed she'd been in. The man who had occupied her thoughts since then. The man she'd described in embarrassing detail to Annette over brunch.

He was Frederica's father. Frederica Nouzen. One of her brightest students. The little girl with the jet-black hair and equally fiery personality who'd drawn a picture of her "hero dad."

"Oh god," Lena groaned again, letting her forehead thump back onto her desk.

The ethical implications alone were enough to make her head spin. There were no explicit rules against dating a student's parent, but it was certainly frowned upon. The potential for conflicts of interest, for accusations of favoritism, for uncomfortable situations if things went south...

And yet.

There had been that moment, just before Frederica returned, when they'd looked at each other with mutual recognition of the absurdity, and possibility, of their situation. When he'd mentioned her necklace, she felt that same racing in her chest that she experienced at the bar.

Lena sat up. She needed to think rationally about this. She was a professional, after all. An educator with responsibilities to her students, to their parents, to the school.

But she was also a woman who, for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, had connected with someone. Someone who, judging by the look in his eyes today, had felt that connection too.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered to the empty classroom.

The silence offered no answers. Lena glanced at the necklace sitting on her desk. His travel mug was still at her apartment, where she'd taken it after brunch with Annette. A tangible reminder of their encounter that now seemed both more significant and more complicated.

She stood and walked to the window, watching as parents and children filtered out of the school building into the spring afternoon. Somewhere among them, Shin was probably taking Frederica for ice cream, perhaps contemplating this same impossible situation from his perspective.

What were the odds they would see each other again?

Lena turned back to her classroom, staring at the cheerful displays of her students' work, the reading corner with its beanbag chairs, and the whiteboard still covered with the day's lessons. This room had always been her sanctuary, her domain where everything made sense.

Now it felt different somehow. Changed by the knowledge that Shin had sat in that small chair, looking at her with those eyes that held the memory of their night together.

"Definitely complicated," Lena murmured, gathering her things to head home. Tomorrow would bring more parent-teacher conferences, lessons to teach, papers to grade, and possibly another encounter with Shin.

She wasn't sure which prospect made her more nervous.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun shined as Lena moved between the desks, helping her first graders pack up their belongings. Backpacks were zipped, art projects carefully slid into folders, and forgotten lunch boxes retrieved from the cubby area.

"Remember to take your vocabulary assignment home this weekend," Lena reminded the class, her voice warm but firm. "I want to see those completed by Monday."

A chorus of "Yes, Miss Miliźe" echoed through the room, some enthusiastic, others resigned.

As she helped little Maja untangle her backpack straps, Lena's eyes drifted to the classroom door for what must have been the dozenth time in the past fifteen minutes. Parents had begun arriving, creating a small crowd in the hallway as they waited to collect their children. Each time the door opened, she felt a small jolt of anticipation, followed by a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment when it wasn't him.

Three days had passed since the parent-teacher conference. Three days since she'd discovered that the man she'd spent the night with was actually Frederica Nouzen's father. Three days of catching herself daydreaming about his body and strong hands before snapping back to reality with the sharp reminder that he was off-limits. Or should be.

"Miss Miliźe, is this spelled right?" A small voice pulled her back to the present.

Lena turned to find Eva holding up her writing journal, pointing to the word "beautiful."

"Almost, Eva. Remember the rule, it's not 'beautyful' even though that makes sense. It's b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l."

As Eva carefully corrected her spelling, Lena glanced toward the back of the classroom where Frederica Nouzen sat alone, engrossed in drawing something in her sketchbook. Unlike the other children who were eager to leave, Frederica seemed content to remain in her own world.

After the last of the other students had been paired with their parents, Lena approached Frederica's desk. 

"That's a beautiful drawing, Frederica," Lena said, genuinely impressed by the detailed scene of what appeared to be a castle with a dragon circling above it.

Frederica looked up, her eyes so similar to her father's in shape, brightening at the praise.

"Thank you! It's for my dad. He tells me stories about a girl who fights dragons. But I think dragons could be tamed and I want to become the Dragon Queen!"

Lena smiled, easing herself onto the edge of the desk beside Frederica's. "You might be right about that. Are you excited for the weekend?"

Frederica shrugged, adding another scale to her friendly-looking dragon. "Mhm. Though dad's been away for work stuff. He said he has to put good locks on computer doors so bad guys can't get in."

"Oh?" Lena said, careful to keep her tone casual despite the unexpected flutter in her chest. "That sounds important."

"Yeah. He's the best at fighting computer bad guys," Frederica continued proudly, oblivious to her teacher's internal battle. "But Auntie Anju and Uncle Dustin are taking me to the aquarium tomorrow. I want to see the jellyfish!"

"Jellyfish are fascinating," Lena agreed, ignoring the subtle but unmistakable pang of disappointment. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, or hoping for, but learning that Shin was away somehow made the classroom feel slightly emptier.

"There's our little artist!" a cheerful female voice called from the doorway.

Lena looked up to see a woman with striking silver hair, much like her own, though styled differently entering the classroom. The woman had piercing blue eyes and carried herself with quiet confidence. She was accompanied by a tall man with light blue-gray hair, rectangular glasses, and a composed, intellectual demeanor.

"Auntie Anju! Uncle Dustin!" Frederica abandoned her drawing, running to greet them with an enthusiasm she rarely showed around most adults.

The silver-haired woman, Anju, caught Frederica in a hug, lifting her off the ground for a moment before setting her down. "Have you been good for Miss Miliźe?" she asked, smoothing Frederica's hair affectionately with a graceful motion.

"She's always good," Lena said, rising from the desk and approaching the couple with an extended hand. "I'm Vladilena Miliźe, Frederica's teacher."

"Anju Jaeger," the silver-haired woman replied, shaking Lena's hand with a gentle but firm grip. "And this is my husband, Dustin. We're friends of Fred's dad."

"Nice to officially meet you," Dustin said with a small, thoughtful smile that softened his otherwise analytical expression. "Fred talks about you all the time. According to her, you know 'everything about everything.'"

Lena laughed, feeling a slight warmth in her cheeks. "I think that might be a slight exaggeration."

"Slight?" Anju said, her eyes eyes twinkling with amusement. "According to Fred, you're basically an encyclopedia with legs."

As Frederica returned to her desk to pack up her drawing materials, Lena found herself curious about these people who were clearly close to Shin and his daughter.

"Frederica mentioned you're taking her to the aquarium this weekend?" she asked, keeping her tone conversational.

"Yeah, Shin pulled another disappearing act for work," Dustin said with a good-natured eye roll. "Some emergency implementation for a financial client in Roa Gracia. Their security audit turned up some catastrophic vulnerabilities, apparently. Shin's plan of action is to—”

"—Dustin," Anju chided gently, "we don't need all the details."

"Sorry," Dustin said, adjusting his glasses with a slight smile.

"It's okay," Lena assured them, absorbing this new information with what she hoped was a neutral expression. "It sounds like important work."

"Important enough that he's been pulling sixteen-hour days for the past week," Anju said with a hint of concern. "He was supposed to be back yesterday, but they extended the project through the next week.”

"That's why we're on Fred duty," Dustin added, gently placing a hand on Frederica's shoulder as she rejoined them, backpack in place and sketchbook clutched protectively to her chest. "Not that we mind, right Frederica?"

Frederica beamed up at him. "Uncle Dustin said we can get ice cream after the jellyfish."

"You love to spoil her with sweets" Anju said dryly, but with clear affection. She turned back to Lena. "It was nice meeting you, Miss Miliźe. Shin mentioned the parent-teacher conference went well?"

Lena felt her heart skip a beat, wondering exactly what Shin had said about their meeting. "Yes, very well. Frederica is an exceptional student."

"That's our girl," Dustin said proudly. 

"He should be back the following Tuesday," Anju mentioned, adjusting the strap of her purse. "Just in time for the normal school drop-off routine."

"I see," Lena said, that mixture of anticipation and dread swirling in her stomach again. Four days. Four days until she would potentially see him again.

"Ready to go, Fred?" Anju asked, holding out her hand.

"Yes! Can we see the sharks too? Dad says sharks are misunderstood."

"That sounds like something Shin would say," Dustin chuckled. "The man has a soft spot for dangerous things."

As the trio headed toward the door, Anju turned back. "It was lovely meeting you, Miss Miliźe. I can see why Fred speaks so highly of you."

"Likewise," Lena replied sincerely. "Enjoy the aquarium."

"Have a good weekend!" Frederica called over her shoulder, waving enthusiastically.

When they disappeared down the hallway, Lena returned to her desk and sank into her chair. 

Tuesday morning. The knowledge settled over her like a deadline and a promise all at once. Eleven days to figure out how to act around him. Eleven days to decide whether the fluttering in her chest when she thought about him was something to nurture or extinguish.

Lena began gathering her own belongings, trying to focus on practical matters. She still had a stack of spelling tests to grade, the science unit to plan, and parent emails to answer. But beneath it all ran a surge of anticipation that no amount of professional focus could completely drown out.

Tuesday morning.

She was equally terrified and eager for it to arrive.

The key turned in the lock with a familiar click as Lena pushed open the door to her apartment. The silence inside was a stark contrast to the cheerful chaos of her classroom. She flicked on the lights, illuminating her modest but beautifully decorated living space. Bookshelves lined the one wall, a comfortable couch with throw pillows sat snuggly to the left, and potted plants on the windowsills stood proudly.

Lena dropped her bag by the door and slipped off her shoes, stepping across the hardwood floor. She rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension that had built up throughout the day. Friday evenings were usually her time to decompress, to shed the persona of Miss Miliźe and simply be Lena again. Tonight, however, her mind refused to settle.

As she moved into the kitchen to make tea, her eyes fell on Shin's travel mug still sitting by the sink where she'd left it after returning from brunch with Annette days ago. The simple stainless steel container seemed to carry far more significance than any travel mug had a right to. It was tangible evidence of their encounter, proof that the night hadn't been some elaborate fantasy she'd conjured up in her mind.

Lena picked it up, turning it in her hands. She should have given him her number. There had been that moment at his door, the silence stretching between them, heavy with potential. But neither of them had taken the leap.

The kettle whistled, pulling her from her thoughts. As she prepared her tea, she found herself mentally replaying moments from that night. The way his eyes had crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled. The careful precision in his movements when guiding himself in or tracing patterns on her skin. The surprising gentleness she'd glimpsed beneath his reserved exterior.

What had started as an impulsive decision, leaving the bar with a handsome stranger, had somehow left an impression far deeper than she'd anticipated. It wasn't just the physical connection, though that had been undeniably intense. There had been something else, a sense of recognition almost, as though they'd been speaking in a language only they understood.

Taking her tea to the couch, Lena curled up with a throw blanket and stared out the window at the city lights. The night they'd met at the bar, she'd had no idea he was a father. Would knowing have changed anything? Would she have still gone home with him?

The answer surprised her. Yes, she probably would have. The connection had felt too strong, too hard to ignore, regardless of his circumstances.

But now she wasn't just dealing with Shin the man, but Shin the father of one of her students. The professional implications alone were enough to make her head spin. What would her principal think? Her colleagues? Other parents?

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, taking a sip of tea. "Nothing has even happened. We spent one night together before I knew he was Frederica's father. I shouldn't be in such an existential crisis. End of story."

Yet even as she said it, she knew it wasn't the end. Tuesday morning would come, and with it, the inevitable meeting. What would they say to each other? How would they navigate this strange new reality they found themselves in?

Lena set her mug down and hugged a pillow to her chest. Whatever happened, one thing was clear. Shin Nouzen had left a significant impression, and no amount of professional boundaries or complicated circumstances seemed capable of erasing it.

Shin rubbed his eyes, the harsh glow of the laptop screen the only light in the hotel room. The digital clock on the nightstand read 11:42 PM, another late night in what had become a week of them. Lines of words blurred before him, security protocols and vulnerability assessments swimming together until they lost all meaning.

He pushed back from the desk, stretching his stiff shoulders. The financial firm's security had been even more compromised than they'd initially reported. What should have been a three-day implementation had stretched into nearly a week and a half, with no end in sight. Every fixed vulnerability seemed to reveal three more hiding beneath it.

His phone buzzed with a text notification. Shin picked it up, expecting another message from the client's IT team with yet another urgent request. Instead, he saw Anju's name on the screen, accompanied by a photo of Frederica at the aquarium, her face pressed against the glass of the jellyfish tank, eyes wide with wonder.

Despite his exhaustion, Shin smiled. He typed back a quick reply, thanking Anju and asking her to give Fred a hug from him.

Setting the phone down, he leaned back in the chair, guilt creeping in as it always did when work took him away from his daughter. Fred never complained, she was too much like him in that way, keeping her disappointments to herself. But he knew his absences affected her. He'd promised himself when he became a single parent that he wouldn't vanish into his work as he did before, yet here he was, in a hotel room while his daughter explored an aquarium with his friends instead of him.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, standing up to stretch his legs. He moved to the window, pulling back the curtain to look at the Arcs Styrie skyline. The city was beautiful at night, all gleaming towers and twinkling lights, but it wasn't home.

Home. The word conjured images of his apartment, of Frederica's drawings on the refrigerator, of morning rushes to get to school on time.

And now, inexplicably, it also brought to mind silver eyes. Vladilena Miliźe. Miss Miliźe to Frederica.

Shin let the curtain fall closed, returning to sit on the edge of the bed. Their encounter had been replaying in his mind at unexpected moments throughout the week. The way she'd laughed at something he'd said at the bar. The feel of her hair between his fingers. The surprise in her eyes when she'd woken in his bed, followed by that soft smile that had made his chest tighten.

He should have asked for her number. There had been that moment at the door, the perfect opportunity, but something had held him back. Then her ride had arrived, and the moment was gone.

Shin had resigned himself to never seeing her again, to adding her to the list of "what ifs" in his life. Then came the parent-teacher conference, and the shock of recognition that had passed between them when he'd walked into that classroom.

Of all the elementary school teachers in the area, she had to be Frederica's. The coincidence was almost laughable.

Shin pinched the bridge of his nose. The situation was undeniably complicated. Did the school have policies about teachers dating parents? Probably. Would pursuing anything with her put her in a difficult professional position? Almost certainly.

And yet.

There had been something in her eyes when they'd spoken briefly in the classroom, after Frederica had stepped out. A recognition that whatever had sparked between them that night hadn't been extinguished by the revelation of their connection.

Shin wasn't one for relationships. After Frederica's mother had passed, he'd thrown himself into fatherhood and work, convinced that was all he had room for in his life. Casual encounters like the one with Lena were rare for him, precisely because he generally avoided complications.

But there was nothing casual about the way she'd lingered in his thoughts, or the way his pulse had quickened when he'd recognized her in that classroom.

Shin picked up his phone again, scrolling to find the contact information for Frederica's teacher that the school had provided at the beginning of the year. "Miss L. Miliźe" stared back at him from the screen, along with a phone number and email address.

His thumb hovered over the work number. He could text her now, break the ice before they had to face each other on Tuesday morning. But what would he say? Sorry I didn't mention I had a kid before we slept together. Also, nice coincidence that you teach her. Coffee sometime?

Shin set the phone down with a sigh. This wasn't something to handle via text message. Especially with a work number. Whatever was happening between them, whatever could happen, deserved a face-to-face conversation.

Tuesday morning would come soon enough. He'd see her then, and they would figure this out like adults. In the meantime, he had a plan to implement and a daughter to call before bedtime.

But as he turned back to his laptop, Shin couldn't help but wonder how their complicated circumstances might unfold when he returned home.

"I swear, if I have to hear Mrs. Lin talk about her son's lactose intolerance one more time, I might actually scream," Mikuri declared, dramatically dropping her lunch bag onto the teachers' lounge table.

A chorus of laughter rose from the small group of teachers gathered for their midday break. Lena smiled politely as she picked at her fruit, only half-listening to the familiar venting session that had become something of a tradition at the school.

"Parent-teacher conference season," sighed Kuroto, the third-grade teacher, "when we realize that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and sometimes that tree is deeply concerning."

"Oh come on, it wasn't all bad," countered Theo from the art department. "I had some really productive conversations with parents this time."

"Plus," added Aina, the kindergarten teacher who was in her first year at the school, "there were some definite highlights in the eye candy department." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

"The hot parent conversation has officially begun," Kuroto announced with mock formality. "Who else made the list this year?"

Lena kept her eyes firmly on her lunch as the conversation devolved into the topic of attractive parents. It was harmless enough, no one ever acted on these observations, and they remained strictly within the teachers' lounge. But for the first time, she felt distinctly uncomfortable with the topic.

"What about you, Lena?" Mikuri asked suddenly, turning toward her with a smile. "Any parents catch your eye this year?"

Lena nearly choked on her water. "What? No. I—I mean I don't really notice that sort of thing," she managed, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

"Oh my god, you're blushing!" Aina exclaimed, leaning forward with sudden interest. "You totally do have a parent crush!"

"I absolutely do not," Lena protested, perhaps a bit too emphatically. She busied herself with reorganizing her lunch, avoiding eye contact. "I maintain strictly professional relationships with all my students' parents."

Kuroto raised an eyebrow. "Thou lady thy seem to thy protest thy much, methinks."

Theo rolled his eyes. “Can you shut up Kuroto. That literally didn't make any sense.”

"Seriously, Lena, spill," Mikuri pressed. "Who is it? Is it the new dad? The security guy who always seem to be the last one to pick up his daughter? I saw him at drop-off once. Those sunglasses and that serious expression?" She fanned herself dramatically. "Definite Dilf vibes."

Lena felt as though the floor might open up beneath her. How was this happening? Was her attraction to Shin somehow written all over her face? Had someone seen them at the bar that night?

"I really don't think this is an appropriate conversation," she said, striving for a light, dismissive tone but landing somewhere closer to panicked. "We should be discussing curriculum plans, not... that."

“Just admit yo—”

"—Oh, leave her alone," Milena interjected, to Lena's immense relief. "Not everyone wants to participate in the hot parent awards."

"Fine, fine," Mikuri conceded with a dramatic sigh as the bob-haired woman, Milena Belik, patted Lena on the shoulder before walking away. "But just for the record, mystery dad gets my vote for the hottest parent."

The conversation mercifully shifted to complaints about the cafeteria's new lunch schedule, but Lena remained unsettled. If her colleagues could so easily pick up on some nonexistent "parent crush," how would they react if they knew the truth? The thought of becoming fodder for teacher's lounge gossip, or worse, facing professional consequences made her stomach churn.

By the time the lunch break ended, Lena had made a resolution. When Shin returned, she would maintain absolute professionalism. No lingering glances, no private conversations, nothing that could possibly be construed as inappropriate. Whatever had happened between them needed to stay firmly in the past.

It was the only sensible option, she told herself as she led her students back to the classroom. The only way to protect her career, her reputation, and her peace of mind.

So why did the thought fill her with such unmistakable disappointment?

Friday afternoon arrived with the drowsy warmth that often settled over elementary classrooms at the end of the day. Lena moved between the desks, helping her students pack up their weekend homework folders as the final bell approached.

"Remember, I want everyone to complete the two math assignments," she reminded them.

Throughout the week, she'd managed to settle back into her routine, focusing on lesson plans and student needs rather than her complicated personal situation. Anju's words about Shin not returning until Tuesday had been something of a relief.

"Miss Miliźe, can I take the dragon book home?" Frederica asked, holding up a colorful picture book about a dragon who was afraid of fire.

"Of course you can, Frederica," Lena replied, helping the little girl slide it into her backpack. "I think you'll really enjoy the ending."

"I'm gonna read it to my dad," Frederica said, carefully zipping her backpack. "He makes the best dragon noises."

Lena smiled, ignoring the small flutter in her chest at the mention of Shin. "I'm sure he does."

The dismissal bell rang, and the classroom erupted into the controlled chaos of first graders eager to start their weekend. Lena positioned herself by the door as usual, making sure each child got with their designated pickup person.

She was helping a student untangle his jacket sleeves when she heard Frederica's excited voice cut through the classroom noise.

"Daddy! You're back early!"

Lena's head snapped up in time to see Frederica bolt toward the doorway, hair flying behind her. And there, standing just inside the classroom, was Shin.

He looked different than he had at the parent-teacher conference, more disheveled, with the appearance of someone who had been traveling. His hair was less neatly styled, his sunglasses slightly askew, and the faint shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. Dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he hadn't slept much, but his expression brightened as he crouched down to catch Frederica in a tight hug.

"Hey, firefly," he said, his voice low and warm in a way Lena hadn't heard before. "Surprise."

"You said Tuesday!" Frederica exclaimed, pulling back to look at him with excited accusation.

"I worked really fast," Shin replied, adjusting his sunglasses with one hand while keeping the other around his daughter. "Couldn't wait to see you."

It was only then, as he straightened up with Frederica still clinging to him, that his eyes met Lena's across the bustling classroom.

Time seemed to suspend itself. The noise of excited children and chatting parents faded to a distant hum as Lena found herself unable to look away. There was recognition in his gaze, not just of her as Frederica's teacher, but of everything unspoken between them. The night they'd shared, the shock of their discovery, the complicated reality they now faced.

A parent asked Lena a question, breaking the spell. She turned to answer, grateful for the distraction, but acutely aware of Shin's presence just a few feet away. When she glanced back, he was helping Frederica with her backpack, but his eyes briefly found hers again.

He offered a small, reserved nod, yet somehow conveying a depth of meaning that made her pulse quicken. It was the acknowledgment of a fellow adult navigating a delicate situation, but also something more. Something unresolved.

As he was guiding Frederica toward the door, he stopped for a moment. He hesitated, glancing back at Lena with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. Then he was gone, disappearing into the stream of departing families.

Lena continued her dismissal duties, ensuring each child left safely. But her thoughts remained tangled around that brief exchange of glances, the silent communication that had passed between them.

Finally, the last student departed, leaving Lena alone in the suddenly quiet classroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, heart still racing despite her best efforts to remain composed.

He wasn't supposed to be back until Tuesday. She had a plan, maintain professionalism, keep interactions brief and impersonal, establish clear boundaries. But the unexpectedness of seeing him today had caught her off guard, leaving her defenses fragile.

Lena moved to her desk and sank into her chair, staring at the colorful alphabet chart on the opposite wall. She'd spent the week convincing herself that maintaining professional distance was the only sensible option. That whatever had sparked between them needed to be extinguished before it could complicate both their lives.

But as she sat in the empty classroom, she had to acknowledge an uncomfortable truth, sensible or not, the connection between them remained. And she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Chapter Text

The morning air carried a breeze that promised autumn despite the lingering warmth of the late summer sun. Lena pulled into Riverside Park’s parking lot at 7:32 a.m., three minutes later than she planned. Her nerves had made her change outfits twice, finally settling on black running leggings and a light blue tank top. She second-guessed her choice of the blue because it brought out her eyes and what if that seemed like she was trying too hard?

“It’s just a 5K run,” she muttered to herself.

Now, climbing out of her car with her water bottle, she could see the setup near the park entrance. A folding table with clipboards and what looked like waiver forms, colorful pace group signs propped against trees: 7:30, 8:00, 9:00, 9:30, 10:00, and one that simply read Run/Walk.

Annette had been annoyingly vague about the details when she texted her on Friday afternoon.

Annette

Friday 2:35 PM
Annette: Tomorrow morning you’re running a 5k with me.

Annette: No excuses.

Lena had protested that she wasn’t a runner, that she had lesson planning to do, that she’d rather sleep in. But Annette had been insistent with a peculiar glint in her texts that should have warned Lena something was up.

“Lena! Over here!” Annette’s voice carried across the parking lot.

Lena spotted her friend near the registration table. Next to her stood a lean man in his early thirties with a runner’s build, holding a clipboard.

As Lena approached, Annette immediately grabbed a name sticker and slapped it onto Lena’s shoulder with unnecessary force. “There! Now you’re official.”

“Official for what, exactly?” Lena asked, adjusting the crooked sticker that read “LENA” in Annette’s bubbly handwriting.

“Lena, this is Theo,” Annette said, gesturing to the man beside her. “Theo runs the Giad Road Runners. Theo, this is my best friend Lena, the one I told you about.”

“The teacher, right?” Theo said with a friendly smile, extending his hand. “Annette says you need to get out more.”

“Annette says a lot of things,” Lena replied, shaking his hand while shooting her friend a look.

“Just sign the waiver,” Annette said breezily, pushing a clipboard toward her. “Standard disclaimers. You won’t sue if you trip over your own feet, blah blah.”

Lena was scanning the waiver when movement near the 7:30 pace sign caught her eye. A familiar figure stood there, adjusting his watch. Dark hair, glasses, athletic build evident even in a fitted running shirt and shorts.

She went completely still.

Shin.

He was here. At the same 5K. On a Saturday morning.

“Oh, him?” Annette’s voice was pure innocence, but the grin on her face was absolutely predatory.

Lena’s head snapped toward her friend. “Why,” she said in a tight, controlled voice, “….is he here?”

“Who, Shin?” Annette’s eyes widened with faux surprise. “Oh, didn’t I mention? He’s been part of Theo’s running club for years now. Theo told me all about it when I mentioned I wanted to get you out for some exercise. Funny coincidence, right?”

“Annette…”

“You’re welcome,” Annette added with a satisfied smirk, then turned to help another arriving runner.

Lena stood frozen, sticker on her shoulder, unsigned waiver in hand, trying to process this ambush. Of course Annette had orchestrated this. Her friend had been fishing for information about Lena’s “mystery parent crush” all week, and apparently decided to take matters into her own hands.

Across the grass, Shin glanced up from his watch. His eyes found hers immediately, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. He looked equally surprised to see her here, which meant, thank god, at least he hadn’t been part of Annette’s scheme.

He raised his hand in an uncertain wave.

She managed a slight nod in return before quickly looking back down at the waiver, her cheeks burning.

“Just sign it,” Annette whispered, suddenly beside her again. “And try to have fun. You’ve been moping all week.”

“I have not been moping,” Lena hissed back, scribbling her signature.

“You reorganized your entire classroom library last night. You only do that when you’re avoiding feelings.”

“I was being productive.”

“You were organizing everything by authors’ last names.”

At 7:43, Theo called everyone to gather on the grass near the starting point. About twenty-five runners had assembled, ranging from serious-looking athletes in compression gear to casual joggers in old college t-shirts.

“Morning, everyone!” Theo announced. “For those who are new, welcome to Giad Road Runners. Today’s route is a simple out-and-back along the river path. 1.5 miles out, turnaround at the red bridge, 1.5 miles back. Total 5K.”

He gestured to the pace signs. “We’ve got groups for every level. The 7:30 pace is for our experienced runners in the group. That’s minutes per mile, folks. If you’re not sure, start conservative. You can always speed up, but dying at mile two helps nobody.”

Shin had moved to stand near the 7:30 sign, hands in his pockets, looking comfortable and at ease in a way Lena had only glimpsed that night at the bar. Theo gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Clearly they knew each other well.

“I think I’ll do the 9:00 pace,” Lena said to Annette, eyeing the middle group. It seemed feasible, challenging but not impossible.

“Are you sure?” Annette asked, hovering near the signs for 9:30 and 10:00. “I was thinking 10:00 for me. Maybe you should…”

“I run sometimes,” Lena lied. “I can handle nine-minute miles.”

“Wow, Lena,” Annette leaned in, her voice dropping to a stage whisper, “you seem awfully eager to pass out to impress someone, huh?”

“I am not…” Lena started, but Annette had already drifted toward the 10:00 group, leaving Lena standing awkwardly alone.

“Alright, let’s warm up!” Theo continued. “Dynamic stretches, nothing crazy. Leg swings, arm circles, whatever feels good.”

The group spread out, and Lena found a spot on the grass to begin her warm-up routine. She was determinedly not looking in Shin’s direction when she caught movement in her peripheral vision. A small wave.

She glanced over. Shin stood about fifteen feet away, having just lifted his hand in greeting. His expression was neutral, but something in his eyes suggested he was as uncertain about this situation as she was.

Lena felt her face flush once again. She managed a short wave, then immediately looked down at her shoes, pretending to adjust her laces. Her heart was hammering far harder than any warm-up exercise warranted.

Focus, she told herself firmly. This is just a run. A casual, friendly, community run that happens to include the man you slept with who is also your student’s father and who you definitely should not be thinking about while wearing tight running clothes.

She glanced up again. Shin had returned to his stretches, but even from this distance, she could feel the thread of awareness between them. The unspoken acknowledgment of everything complicated and unresolved.

This was going to be a very long day.

At 7:52, Theo gathered everyone at the starting point, a strip of blue chalk across the path. “We’re doing a wave start to keep things smooth,” he explained. “We’ll release each pace group thirty seconds apart. Remember, this isn’t a race. It’s an easy run. Nobody’s keeping official time.

The 7:30 group assembled at the starting line. Six runners including Shin. Lena watched from her position with the 9:00 group, trying not to be obvious about it.

That’s when she noticed the woman.

Mid-twenties, professionally highlighted hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, wearing a form-fitting running bra and expensive-looking running tights. She had approached the 7:30 group with the confident stride of someone used to inserting herself into spaces, and was now positioning herself directly next to Shin.

“Hey, Shin! Didn’t know you’d be here today. Mind if I run with you?”

Shin glanced over, clearly surprised. “Amy. I thought you usually ran the 8:00 group?”

“Felt like pushing myself today,” she replied with a smile that was definitely more than friendly. She touched his arm as she spoke, adjusting her position to stand closer. “Plus, I could use some…. tips on my form. You always make it look so effortless.”

Lena felt something uncomfortable twist in her chest. A tightness she couldn’t quite name, a feeling that was slowly growing by the minute.

“Alright, 7:30 group, you’re up!” Theo called. “And… go!”

The fast group took off with easy, efficient strides. Amy stayed close to Shin’s right side, close enough that Lena could see her lean in to say something that made him respond with what looked like a polite gesture. Within seconds, they pulled ahead, disappearing around the first curve of the river path, but not before Lena caught one more flash of Amy’s hand on Shin’s arm.

“Next up, 8:00 pace!” Theo announced.

The second group launched. Lena barely noticed them, still processing what she’d just witnessed.

“And… 9:00 pace, are you ready?”

Lena positioned herself near the middle of her group, about eight runners total. She recognized a few faces from around town, but her mind was elsewhere.

“Three, two, one… go!”

The 9:00 group started forward. Lena fell into what should have been a steady rhythm, her breathing even, legs warming up. The path was beautiful this time of morning, early sunlight filtering through trees, the river glittering to their left.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d just seen.

The 7:30 group was far ahead now, maybe a few hundred meters up the path. Even at this distance, Lena could make out individual runners. The flash of Amy’s blonde ponytail. Shin’s dark hair and taller frame. They were running side by side, and even from here, Lena could see Amy lean closer. She could imagine that bright, flirtatious laugh carrying on the wind.

The strange sensation once again built in Lena’s chest. Hot and uncomfortable, making her jaw tight. She told herself it was none of her business. That Shin was a free agent. That she had no claim on him, no right to feel anything about who he talked to or ran with.

But the feeling persisted, growing stronger as she watched Amy gesture again, clearly comfortable with Shin’s proximity.

Lena’s pace increased without her conscious decision. Her legs pumped faster, her stride lengthening. The gap between her and the runners ahead began to close incrementally.

“Lena?” One of the other 9:00 runners called from beside her. “Hey, we’re supposed to hold steady at a nine-minute pace. You’re pushing past that.”

But Lena barely heard them. Her focus had narrowed to the figures ahead, to the uncomfortable burn building in her legs that somehow felt preferable to the burn in her chest. She couldn’t name what she was feeling. Didn’t want to name it. But it drove her forward with surprising intensity.

She pushed harder, her breathing deepening, drifting closer to an 8:30 effort. Maybe faster.

Behind her, she heard Annette’s voice, slightly breathless. “Lena! Wait up!”

She didn’t slow down. Couldn’t. The path stretched ahead, and somewhere in the distance, Shin ran alongside someone who clearly had no complicated history with him, no professional boundaries to worry about, no reason not to touch his arm and laugh at his responses.

“You’re killing me, Lena!” Annette’s voice yelled from farther back. “Was the sex really that great!?”

A few nearby runners turned to look, but Lena barely registered the attention. She was too focused on the pace that was definitely unsustainable, on the jealousy. Yes, that’s what it was, she could finally admit it. The jealously was fueling her desire to catch up to them.

Her lungs were beginning to protest. Her legs would definitely regret this tomorrow. But for now, all Lena could think about was closing the distance between herself and the runners ahead, even though logic told her it was pointless, even though she had no idea what she’d do if she actually caught up.

She just knew she couldn’t bear to watch from a distance any longer.

By the time Lena hit the one-mile marker, her lungs were screaming. Her breath had shortened to shallow gasps, shoulders rising up toward her ears with each inhale. A sure sign of oxygen debt that any reasonable runner would recognize as a warning to slow down.

Lena was well past reasonable.

The path ahead blurred slightly. The 7:30 group had pulled even farther ahead, now just distant figures against the morning light.

Her right foot caught on something, a protruding rock or root, she’d never know which, and suddenly she was stumbling sideways off the paved path. Her momentum carried her into the grass, where she half-collapsed, half-sat down hard, chest heaving as she tried desperately to catch her breath.

“Whoa, hey!” Two runners from the 9:00 group she left behind pulled up beside her. A middle-aged man in a worn marathon shirt crouched down. “You okay?”

Lena tried to respond but could only manage a gasping nod.

“Here.” A woman offered her water bottle. “Small sips. And try to slow your breathing. You’re hyperventilating.”

The man started counting out loud. “In for four… hold for four… out for four. Match my count.”

Lena followed his breathing cues, feeling her racing heart gradually slow from its panicked tempo. The world came back into focus. The concerned faces of the two runners, the sound of other pace groups passing by on the path, the morning sun suddenly feeling too warm on her skin.

“Lena!” Annette’s voice preceded her arrival by a few seconds. She jogged up, breathless herself, and immediately dropped to her knees beside Lena. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was just…” Lena started, but Annette cut her off.

“You were chasing a man who wasn’t even in your pace group while running at a speed you definitely cannot maintain.” Annette turned to the two helpful runners. “Thank you so much. I’ve got her from here.”

They nodded and continued on their way, leaving Lena alone with her best friend’s knowing stare.

“Let me see.” Annette examined Lena’s knees and palms, finding minor scrapes but nothing serious. “You’re lucky you just tripped on grass and not pavement.”

“I’m fine,” Lena insisted, though her burning lungs suggested otherwise.

“Your face is very pale, you actually would’ve passed out if you pushed any harder.” Annette physically pressed down on Lena’s shoulders, demonstrating proper posture. “Breathe from your diaphragm, not your chest. In through your nose.”

Lena followed the cues, feeling her body gradually return to something approaching normal. Around them, other runners continued to pass. The 9:30 group, then the 10:00 group, all at their steady, sustainable paces.

After a moment, Annette pointed to a narrow path that branched off to the left, cutting through a wooded area. “There’s a shortcut to the finish arch through there. Cuts out about half a mile.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Oh please.” Annette stood up and offered her hand. “You cheated yourself trying to catch up to ‘Mr. PleaseLetMeHaveOneMoreNight.’ At least this shortcut gets you to the finish line without requiring medical attention.”

Lena felt her cheeks burn, from embarrassment this time, not exertion. “I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were.” Annette pulled her to her feet. “And we can discuss your extremely obvious jealousy issues later. Right now, we’re taking the shortcut before you do something else stupid like trying to sprint the remaining two miles.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Her friend was right. About all of it.

She nodded reluctantly.

They started down the path at a walk-jog pace, Annette keeping a watchful eye on Lena’s breathing and form. The wooded trail was peaceful, shaded and quiet compared to the main path, giving Lena time to feel the full weight of her embarrassment settle over her.

She acted like a jealous teenager. Worse, she’d done it in front of a group of strangers, including the man she was supposedly trying not to think about.

“For what it’s worth,” Annette said after a few minutes of silence, “he barely looked at that Amy chick. Kept his eyes forward the whole time.”

“You could see from that far away?”

“I have excellent vision. And I was paying attention because I knew you’d want to know.” Annette glanced at her. “Also, you’re not subtle when you’re jealous. At all.”

Lena groaned. “Was it that obvious?”

“To everyone except possibly Shin? Yes. Very.”

“Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed today.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Annette said cheerfully. “At least now you know you actually care about him. That’s progress, right?”

Lena wasn’t sure “progress” was the word she’d use, but she didn’t have the breath to argue.

The path emerged near the park arch that marked the finish line. A folding table held water bottles and orange slices, while Theo stood with a stopwatch, calling out finish times as runners crossed the chalk line.

“Great job! 28:47!” Theo announced as someone from the 8:00 group finished. Music played from a portable speaker, something upbeat and encouraging. Several runners were already in cool-down mode, stretching in small circles on the grass.

“Nice work, Shin! 23:15! Not bad for a chill run,” Theo called out.

Shin nodded his thanks and headed straight for the water table, grabbing a bottle and taking a long drink. He pushed his glasses up on top of his head, and his hair was slightly damp with sweat. Even disheveled from running, he looked…

Lena forced herself to look away before she could complete that thought.

“I’m going to stretch,” she muttered to Annette, heading for an empty patch of grass.

She barely started a quad stretch when she noticed Shin walking in her direction. He spotted her. He was coming over. There was no polite way to avoid this.

Her heart rate, which had finally returned to normal, immediately kicked up again.

“Morning,” Shin said as he reached her, his voice slightly rough. His eyes swept over her, quickly noticing the grass stains on her knees. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lena replied, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to breathless. “Grass broke the fall.”

“Fall?” His expression shifted to concern.

“Minor stumble. Really, it’s nothing.” She switched legs on her stretch, using the movement as an excuse to look away from his intense gaze. “Did you have a good run?”

“Solid for what it was.” He pulled his glasses back down to his face, adjusting them with one hand. There was a pause, slightly awkward, where neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

The problem was there was too much to say. Or too much they couldn’t say, not here, surrounded by other runners and the cheerful chaos of the finish area.

“Well,” Lena started, “I should probably…”

“Theo!” Annette’s voice yelled out across the grass as she approached the organizer with purposeful enthusiasm. “That was amazing! What’s the route for next week? I’m definitely coming back.”

Lena watched her friend blatantly insert herself into a conversation with Theo, leaving Lena and Shin standing alone together.

“Your friend is…” Shin started.

“Obvious? Meddling? Completely lacking in social awareness?” Lena supplied.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I was going to say ‘enthusiastic about running.’”

“That too.”

Another pause. Shin shifted his weight slightly, and Lena got the distinct impression he wanted to say something but was holding back.

Around them, the finish area continued to fill with runners. The 9:00 group was arriving now, several of them glancing curiously at Lena and Shin standing together. She was acutely aware of how this might look. The first-grade teacher and the single dad, alone together at a community event.

She should walk away. Make some polite excuse and put distance between them before anyone got the wrong idea.

Or the right idea.

“I’m not sure if you forgot, but I still have your necklace,” Shin said abruptly, his voice low enough that nearby runners wouldn’t overhear.

Lena blinked. “My…” Then she remembered. The delicate silver chain she’d been wearing that night at the bar. She must have taken it off at some point and left it at his place. “Oh.”

“And I still have your travel mug,” she replied, matching his quiet tone.

“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she was beginning to recognize as something he did when uncertain. “We should probably exchange those.”

“Yes,” Lena agreed. She pulled out her phone, checking the time. “I’m free this afternoon if that works?”

Shin glanced at his own phone. “Frederica’s with Anju for the whole weekend. How does two o’clock sound? Should give us time to shower and get changed.”

“Two o’clock works.” Lena hesitated, then added, “Rustkammer Café? It’s public, casual.”

She didn’t say the rest. That meeting somewhere public felt safer, more appropriate given their situation. But from the look Shin gave, he understood.

“Rustkammer Café at two,” he confirmed. “I’ll bring your necklace.”

“And I’ll bring your travel mug.”

They stood there for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. Around them, runners continued to trickle in, stretching and chatting, oblivious to the careful negotiation happening in this small pocket of space.

“Shin! Photo time!” Theo’s voice called out from across the finish area. “Everyone, we’re doing the group photo by the banner!”

The moment broke. Shin glanced toward Theo, then back at Lena. “I should…”

“Yes, go ahead,” Lena said quickly, grateful for the interruption, even though a part of her wanted to stay in this bubble a moment longer.

“See you at two,” Shin said.

“Two o’clock,” Lena echoed.

She watched him walk toward the growing crowd gathering near a large “Giad Road Runners” banner that had been strung between two trees. Amy had already positioned herself front and center, waving energetically when she spotted Shin approaching.

“There you are!” Annette appeared at Lena’s elbow.. “Theo wants everyone in the photo. Come on.”

“I don’t think I need to be in it,” Lena protested. “This is my first time…”

“Exactly. First of many, if I have anything to say about it.” Annette grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the crowd. “Plus, you need to mark this occasion where you literally ran yourself into the ground trying to catch up to a man.”

“I was not…”

“Save it for someone who didn’t watch you nearly hyperventilate.” Annette grinned. “Now smile for the camera and try not to stare too obviously at Mr. PleaseYouWereSoGoodLastNight.”

“ANNETTE, ENOUGH!!”

Theo was directing everyone like a conductor, positioning runners in rows. “Taller folks in back, shorter in front! Let’s make this work, people!”

Lena found herself swept into the middle row, wedged between Annette and a friendly woman from the 9:30 group.

She was making sure to not look for Shin in the crowd when he appeared at the edge of her peripheral vision, settling into a spot in the back row. Their shoulders were almost aligned, maybe two feet of space between them.

“Everybody squeeze in!” Theo ordered. “We need to fit the whole group in frame!”

The crowd shuffled closer together. Lena felt the warmth of bodies pressing in from both sides. She could sense Shin’s presence behind her, close enough that if she leaned back even slightly…

“Oh, Shin!” Amy’s voice cut through the general chatter. “Scoot over, there’s room right here!”

Before Shin could respond, Amy had wedged herself into the minimal space between him and the runner beside him, forcing both men to shift. She ended up directly behind Lena, her shoulder now where Shin’s had been moments before.

“Perfect!” Amy beamed, then shot Lena a look. Fast, assessing, with just enough edge to be unmistakable. The message was clear. Back off.

Lena felt her jaw tighten. She forced herself to face forward, focusing on the camera Theo was setting up on a tripod.

“Everyone ready?” Theo hovered over the button. “On three! One… two…”

Lena sensed movement behind her. Shin had moved slightly, and when she glanced back, he caught her eye. He mouthed “sorry,” his expression apologetic, before turning to face the camera.

“Three!”

The camera clicked. Then clicked again as Theo took several backup shots. “Perfect! Got it! Thank you, everyone.”

The group immediately began to disperse, conversations resuming, some runners heading toward the parking lot. Amy turned to Shin, her hand landing on his arm.

“Hey, a few of us from the 7:30 group are grabbing brunch at the River House. You should come!” Her voice was bright, inviting, with an undertone that suggested this was more than just a casual group invitation.

“I appreciate the offer,” Shin replied, his tone polite but firm, “but I have plans this afternoon.”

“Oh, come on, just for an hour?” Amy persisted. “It’d be fun to get to know you better outside of running.”

Lena felt Annette’s elbow dig into her ribs. “Don’t look,” her friend whispered. “You’re about to shoot daggers out of your eyes.”

Lena forced herself to turn away, catching only Shin’s continued polite deflection as she and Annette headed toward the parking lot.

“That Amy is persistent,” Annette observed. “Also, kind of rude. Did you see that look she gave you?”

“I saw it.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Lena picked up her pace. “It’s not my business who he talks to or what invitations he accepts.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to your clenched fists.”

Lena looked down to find her hands were indeed balled into tight fists. She consciously relaxed them. “I just want to go home and shower.”

“And pick out an outfit for your two o’clock meeting?” Annette’s grin was insufferable.

“It’s just coffee.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Bloody Reina.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Lena had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a warm towel around her body. She reached over the counter and grabbed her phone to check her notifications. Nothing important.

She then set the phone down and stared at her reflection in the steamy mirror. This was fine. This was just two adults coordinating a simple exchange. The fact that she was already mentally sorting through her closet for something appropriate to wear was purely practical.

“It’s just coffee,” she said firmly to her reflection.

Her reflection didn’t look convinced.

By 1:45, Lena stood in front of her open closet, the soft afternoon light shining through her bedroom window. She sighed as she pulled out a few outfits, laying them carefully on the bed.

Holding up a burgundy dress against herself in front of the mirror, she tilted her head.

“Nope,” she frowned, tossing it aside.

She picked up a casual blouse and jeans next, but shook her head. “Too basic, just like Amy.”

A navy blazer and slacks made her look like she was heading to a parent-teacher conference, which just felt wrong. A floral sundress seemed too bright, too optimistic for what was supposed to be a simple exchange of items.

Lena’s eyes fell on a black turtleneck she tucked in the back of her closet. She pulled it out along with a houndstooth mini skirt and black tights. Laying them on the bed, she observed the combination.

The turtleneck was sleek and simple, nothing too revealing or casual. The houndstooth skirt added visual interest without being too bold. With black tights and her knee-high boots, it would look put-together but not like she tried too hard.

She slipped into the outfit, smoothing the turtleneck and adjusting the skirt. In the mirror, the look came together better than she’d expected. The black and neutral tones felt sophisticated, the kind of outfit that said “I have my life together” without screaming “I spent an hour choosing this.”

On impulse, she grabbed her brown newsboy cap from the shelf and set it on her head, tucking some of her silver hair behind her ears while letting the rest fall naturally. She checked her reflection again. The cap added a casual touch that balanced the more polished elements of the outfit.

Her caramel-colored coat would complete the look perfectly if the weather stayed cool.

Lena kept her makeup minimal. A touch of mascara, a hint of blush, lip balm with just enough tint to look intentional. She didn’t want to look like she’d spent an hour getting ready, even though she absolutely had.

She checked the time. 1:52 p.m. Eight minutes.

She grabbed Shin’s travel mug from the kitchen counter, where it had been sitting like a small reminder for the past week, and slipped it into her tote bag. The weight of it felt significant somehow, like she was carrying more than just an insulated beverage container.

As she locked her apartment door and headed out, Lena couldn’t quite ignore the rush of anticipation in her chest. It felt like the moment before a roller coaster hit its first drop, that suspended second where you’re not sure if you’re excited or terrified or both.

Just coffee, she whispered to herself one more time.

But her racing pulse suggested otherwise.

Rustkammer Café occupied a corner spot downtown, its large windows offering views of the tree-lined street. Lena arrived at exactly 2:00 p.m., her newsboy cap still perched on her head, the coat draped over one arm. She spotted Shin immediately. He claimed the window table as planned, his back to the glass, a cup of coffee already in front of him.

He looked up as she approached, and something flickered in his eyes. Appreciation, maybe, or just recognition. He changed too, she noticed. Dark jeans, a navy henley that fit him well, his hair still slightly damp from his own post-run shower. His glasses caught the afternoon light as he stood to greet her.

“You’re right on time, I’m impressed” he gestured for her to sit.

“Teacher habit.” Lena slid into the seat across from him, setting her coat and tote bag on the empty chair beside her. The newsboy cap she kept on. “We’re trained to value every minute of class time.”

A server appeared before their conversation could continue. “What can I get you?”

“Just a latte, please,” Lena said. “Oat milk if you have it.”

When the server left, an awkward silence settled over the table. They were both here for a specific purpose, but now that they were actually face to face, the exchange of items felt insufficient to the weight of their situation.

Shin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, the kind jewelry stores use for delicate pieces. He set it on the table between them. “Your necklace. I found it on my nightstand the morning after that night.”

Lena felt her cheeks warm at the casual mention of “his nightstand” and “the morning after.” She reached into her tote and pulled out his travel mug, setting it beside the box. “Your mug. I meant to return it sooner, but…”

“Circumstances got complicated,” Shin finished.

“Yes.”

They completed the exchange. Lena opened the small box to find her silver necklace coiled neatly inside, whereas Shin accepted his travel mug with a nod of thanks. The practical business concluded, they should probably say their goodbyes and leave.

Neither of them moved to go.

“How was the rest of your run?” Shin asked finally. “After the… stumble.”

“Embarrassing,” Lena admitted. “But Annette got me to the finish line intact, so it could have been worse.” She paused. “Though I may never live down the concerned breathing lessons from complete strangers.”

“I’ve been there,” Shin said. “My first long run with the club, I pushed too hard trying to keep up with the front group. Ended up sitting on a bench for fifteen minutes while someone’s grandmother gave me hydration advice.”

Lena smiled. “Was the advice helpful?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” He took a sip of his coffee. “She was a retired marathon runner. Had more wisdom than our entire group combined.”

The server returned with Lena’s latte, and the conversation changed to safer topics. Shin mentioned that his security implementation had finally wrapped up successfully. Lena talked about her class’s recent enthusiasm for a nonfiction unit on ocean animals, which had led to an impromptu classroom debate about whether dolphins or sharks were superior.

“Frederica’s in the shark camp,” Shin said. “Very passionate about it.”

“I noticed. She wrote a very compelling argument about how dolphins are the true enemy during our persuasive writing lesson.” Lena wrapped her hands around her warm latte. “She’s doing exceptionally well, actually. Her reading level has jumped significantly since the start of the year.”

“She reads to the cat at home,” Shin said. “Every night before bed. I’m not sure how much TP actually appreciates the stories though.”

“TP?”

“Short for ‘Thermopylae’, and before you ask, Frederica was the one who came up with the name.” He wiped his mouth. “Even I couldn’t understand why she chose that. All she said was that I was “uncultured.””

Lena laughed, a genuine sound that surprised them both. For a moment, the weight of their complicated situation lifted, and they were just two people sharing coffee and conversation on a Saturday afternoon.

Then Shin’s expression grew more serious. “We should probably talk about… that night.”

The lightness evaporated. Lena set down her latte, giving him her full attention.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Shin said carefully. “I want to be clear about that. But the timing was…”

“Terrible,” Lena jumped in. “The timing was terrible.”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence for a moment, acknowledging the truth of it. What had happened between them had been real, significant even. But reality had inserted itself in the most complicated way possible.

“We need boundaries,” Lena said finally. The words felt necessary, even though a part of her resisted saying them. “Clear ones.”

Shin nodded. “Agreed.”

“No dating,” Lena continued, her voice steady even as something in her chest protested. “Not while I’m teaching Frederica. It’s not explicitly against school policy, but it’s… complicated. The potential for conflicts of interest, for people questioning my judgment about her academic performance, for other parents thinking…”

“I understand,” Shin interrupted gently. “You’re right. We can’t.”

“No private meetings,” Lena added. “Only school-related interactions. Parent-teacher conferences, school events, drop-off and pickup when necessary. Everything professional.”

“Like today,” Shin agreed. “Practical exchanges when needed, but not… this.” He gestured at the comfortable café setting, the coffee, the easy conversation they’d been having moments before.

“Either of us can pull back,” Lena said. “At any time, without debate or discussion. If it becomes too difficult, if the boundaries start to blur, we just… stop.”

“And revisit after the school year ends,” Shin offered. “Or if circumstances change for legitimate reasons. If Fred moves to a different class, or if one of us relocates. But not before then.”

“Not before then,” Lena echoed.

They repeated it all aloud now, established the framework that would govern their interactions going forward. It was sensible, professional, appropriate.

It also felt like deliberately slamming a door they’d barely glimpsed open.

A quiet beat passed between them. Lena found herself studying the grain of the wooden table, unable to meet Shin’s eyes. She could feel it though. That pull, that awareness, the thing they weren’t naming but both clearly felt.

“For what it’s worth,” Shin said quietly, “if circumstances were different…”

“Don’t,” Lena interrupted, her voice softer than she intended. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

Because if he said it, if he admitted that he felt the same pull she did, it would make honoring these boundaries so much harder.

Shin nodded, understanding. “You’re right.”

The server approached with the check, and the moment dissolved into reality. Shin reaching for his wallet, Lena protesting that she should pay her share, their hands briefly tangling over the bill folder before Shin insisted.

“Consider it compensation for the travel mug,” he said with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s a very expensive mug,” Lena replied, but she didn’t argue further.

As they stood to leave, Lena carefully tucked the small jewelry box into her tote, acutely aware that this was likely the last time they’d meet like this. Just the two of them, in a neutral space, having a conversation that felt more personal than professional.

Outside the café, the afternoon had grown overcast, clouds gathering with the promise of rain.

“Thank you,” Lena said. “For the necklace. And for understanding about… everything.”

“Thank you for the mug,” Shin replied. Then, with careful formality, “I’ll see you at school, Miss Milizé.”

The return to her title felt like reinforcing the boundary they’d just established. Necessary, but somehow painful.

“See you at school, Mr. Nouzen,” Lena said.

They stood there for one more moment, and Lena wondered if he felt it too. The sense that they were letting something go before they’d ever really had a chance to hold onto it.

Shin waved and turned toward the parking lot, and Lena started walking in the opposite direction toward her apartment, telling herself that this was the right decision, the only decision they could make.

Then the first drops of rain began to fall.

Lena had made it three blocks when the sky opened up.

What had been a light drizzle became a torrential downpour in seconds, the kind of sudden storm that turned streets into rivers and sent pedestrians scrambling for cover. Lena ducked under a shop awning, pulling her caramel coat tighter around herself, but it provided minimal shelter from the wind-driven rain that seemed to come at her from every direction.

She walked to the café earlier. It had seemed like a nice afternoon for it, and she needed the time to clear her head before meeting Shin. Now, watching the rain come down in sheets, she was regretting that decision. Her newsboy cap was already soaked through, water dripping from its brim.

Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to make her jump. The street was flooding rapidly, water rushing along the gutters and pooling at the intersections. This was more than a passing shower. This was the kind of storm that knocked out power and made the news.

Lena was unsure of what to do. Run to her apartment or call a rideshare? Her thoughts diminished when another crash of thunder rang throughout the sky. This storm was definitely not letting up. Before she could think of her next action, a black sedan pulled up to the curb, hazard lights flashing.

It was Shin. He came for her.

He leaned across to push open the passenger door. “Get in.” 

Lena made a dash for it, getting soaked in the few seconds it took to cross from the awning to the car.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, pulling the door closed and immediately dripping all over his floor mat. She pulled off her soaked newsboy cap, setting it on her lap. “I’m sorry, I’m getting your car wet.”

“It’s fine.” Shin’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, windshield wipers struggling at their highest setting. “Where’s your apartment?”

Lena gave him the address, and he pulled carefully back into traffic. The visibility was terrible, brake lights blurry through the water-streaked windshield. They moved slowly, other cars equally cautious in the situation at hand.

“I appreciate the rescue,” Lena said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her coat had protected most of her outfit, but she could feel dampness seeping through. The car’s heater hadn’t kicked in yet. “This came out of nowhere.”

“Severe flash flood warning went out about ten minutes ago,” Shin said, his eyes fixed on the road. “I was almost to my car when I got the alert and realized you’d mentioned walking.”

They established boundaries, agreed to keep their distance. And here he was, immediately circling back to make sure she was safe. Lena wasn’t sure what that said about their ability to actually maintain those boundaries, but right now, she was too grateful to overthink it.

As they approached Lena’s neighborhood, the flooding got worse. The streets here were older, with less effective drainage, and heavy rain always turned the low-lying areas into temporary ponds.

Shin slowed to a crawl, then stopped completely. Ahead of them, orange cones floated lazily in the water that had to be at least a few feet deep. A sedan sat abandoned in the middle of the flooded street, water lapping at its doors.

“I can’t get you through that,” Shin said, frustration evident in his voice. “The water’s too deep. We’d flood the engine.”

Lena stared at the impassable street, her building visible on the other side but completely inaccessible. “My street always floods when it rains. I should have remembered. There’s usually a detour route if you take that alleyway to the left, but in this weather…” She trailed off, watching more water rush down from the hills.

Shin was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. Rain pounded on the roof of the car, and thunder rumbled closer. The storm showed no signs of letting up. If anything, it was getting worse.

“We’ll go to my place,” Shin said finally. “Wait it out there. Try again when it’s safe.”

Lena’s breath caught. Going to his apartment. The same apartment where they’d spent that night. It felt like deliberately testing the boundaries they’d just established. “I don’t think…”

“The main roads in my neighborhood don’t flood,” Shin continued. “You can’t get home, and I’m not letting you sit in a coffee shop for hours when we don’t know how long this may last. It’s the most reasonable solution.”

He was right. It was the logical solution. But Lena could feel the weight of their earlier conversation. All those carefully established boundaries pressing against this new reality.

“Boundaries stand,” she said quietly. “We agreed.”

“I know.” Shin glanced at her, his expression serious. “This doesn’t change that. You need somewhere dry to wait out the storm. I have space. That’s all this is.”

Lena looked back at the flooded street, then at the rain still hammering down around them. She didn’t really have another option, and they were both adults capable of maintaining professional distance in a temporary situation.

“Okay,” she said. “But we’re clear. This is just waiting out the weather. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” Shin agreed.

He carefully turned the car around, heading back toward the main road and then toward his neighborhood. Neither of them spoke much during the drive, both hyperaware of the situation they’d just agreed to despite their earlier promises to maintain distance.

The storm continued to rage outside as they drove through the stormy afternoon, and Lena couldn’t shake the feeling that they were heading toward something more complicated than just shelter from the rain.