Park Sunghoon thrived on silence, to fuel his always running at top speed mind. It filled the corners of his office, crisp and undisturbed, wrapping around the sleek furniture and perfectly aligned documents like an invisible shield. He preferred it this way—precise, orderly, untouched by distractions.

But then came her. Every morning, at exactly 8:55 AM, the quiet was broken. The soft shuffle of papers, the rhythmic clack of heels against marble, the faint scent of vanilla and caramel creeping into his carefully maintained space. She never hesitated, never faltered, moving through the room like she belonged there—like she had always belonged there. And, of course, she brought the coffee. It landed on his desk with the same annoyingly cheerful presence she carried, the cup unnecessarily decorated, the contents far too sweet for his liking. Yet, he drank it without complaint. Not because he enjoyed it, but because it had become part of the routine—a detail woven into the structure of his day without his permission.

She didn't wait for acknowledgment. She never did. Instead, she moved through her tasks with a quiet kind of energy, flipping through schedules, rearranging meetings, leaving notes in the margins of his reports. Sunghoon never commented on the small doodles at the edge of the sticky notes. Never questioned why, on particularly gruelling days, a tiny rabbit or cat would appear next to a reminder. He never asked, because acknowledging it would mean admitting that he noticed.

One particular evening, after work, she had no choice but to stay after hours and arrange something urgently required by the following morning. Sunghoon stayed back too and did his part at his own desk, his eyes never flickering away from the screen for even a millisecond. He was done much faster, while she seemed to be running a tad slower, the exhaustion apparent on her usually spirited features. And before either of them realised, her head wasn't in the work anymore, but it was buried in the crook of her elbow which rested on the desk while her other hand held onto a pen which began its task in neat handwriting, but ended half way in scribbles. "Goodness," he sighed, folding his arms. Sleeping at the office? One of his biggest pet peeves. Sunghoon checked the time; it was 10:30. Perhaps the late hours could excuse her for her inefficiency. His coat hung neatly folded over his forearm which clutched onto a thick black file, while his other hand focused on staying cozily hidden in his pocket. Giving in, he carefully unfolded his coat, and covered her with it, while also saving her files and shutting off the computer. He didn't think twice before doing it, which he later came to regret once the magnitude of his actions sunk into his brain.

A worse reminder of this event was when she came cheerily strutting into his office the following morning; but, she was late. Instead of arriving at the usual 8:55, she arrived at 9:10. Worse, she was fashioning the coat Sunghoon managed to let her borrow, and she looked far too good for his personal liking in it. "You're late," he raised an eyebrow.