Minchan: Fighting The Storms With You

37

Life at the bungalow had slowly become our new normal. We found solace in the simple routines, and amidst the quiet of the forest, Minho began to show signs of healing. There were moments that stood out, filled with laughter and genuine happiness, moments that I held close to my heart.

One morning, I decided to make breakfast. The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light, and I was focused on chopping vegetables. Minho wandered in, his hair still messy from sleep. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with a faint smile on his lips.

"Smells good," he said, his voice still husky from sleep.

I glanced up and grinned. "Just making some omelets. Want to help?"

He shook his head. "I'll just watch. You look like you're in your element."

I chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. "Well, I'm not a professional, but I try."

Minho's eyes softened as he watched me move around the kitchen. "You're good at it. I like watching you cook."

I felt a warmth spread through my chest at his words. "Thanks, Minho. It's nice having you here with me."

He nodded, and for a moment, we were both silent, just enjoying each other's presence. It was a small, intimate moment, but it felt perfect.

Later that day, we decided to take a walk. The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Minho seemed more relaxed, and I was grateful for every smile I managed to coax from him. As we walked, a bug suddenly flew into my face, and I yelped, swatting at it frantically.

Minho burst out laughing, the sound pure and joyful. "You're such a baby," he teased.

"Hey, bugs are scary!" I protested, grinning despite myself. "You never know what they're thinking."

He shook his head, still chuckling. "You're ridiculous, Chan."

"I prefer to think of myself as cautious," I said, puffing out my chest dramatically.

Minho laughed again, and it was a sound I wanted to hear more of. We continued our walk, talking about everything and nothing, losing ourselves in the beauty of the forest and each other's company.

As we neared the edge of the forest, we stumbled upon a small group of stray cats. They looked up at us with curious eyes, and Minho's face lit up.

"Look at them," he said, crouching down. "They're so cute."

I watched as Minho reached into his pocket and pulled out some food he had brought along. The cats approached him cautiously at first, but soon they were eating happily from his hand.

"You have a way with animals," I said, smiling at the sight.

Minho looked up at me, his eyes shining. "They're just hungry and need a little kindness. Like everyone else."

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. "You're amazing, Minho. You know that?"

He blushed slightly, looking away. "I'm just trying to do my best."

"You're doing great," I assured him. "And I'm really proud of you."

We spent the rest of the afternoon with the cats, talking and laughing. Minho seemed genuinely happy, and it was a sight that filled me with hope.

That evening, as the sun set and we headed back to the bungalow, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. Minho was healing, and we were finding joy in the little things. It wasn't always easy, but moments like these made it all worthwhile.

As we settled in for the night, Minho turned to me with a soft smile. "Thank you, Chan. For everything."

I reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm always here for you, Minho. Always."

He nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet gratitude.