𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

                  𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐎

I stared at the letter in my hands, the words dancing in front of my eyes. Cherished. Protected. They felt like promises—ones I didn’t dare believe were meant for me. But the sincerity behind them was undeniable. My gaze flicked to the gifts resting on the table, their presence both comforting and unsettling. Who would do this? And why?

A shiver ran down my spine, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the unease creeping through me or the strange warmth pooling in my chest. I wanted to be suspicious, to brush this off as some prank or mistake. But deep down, I couldn’t deny that the thought of someone caring—even a stranger—made something in me stir.

My mind drifted, unbidden, to the man from the mall. Hanbin. His sharp suit, his soft yet piercing gaze, and the way he had looked at me, like he saw something no one else did. I didn’t know why he lingered in my thoughts—it wasn’t like we had spoken much, but there was something about him I couldn’t shake. The intensity in his eyes had left me rattled, a mix of fascination and unease.

Could it be him? My fingers tightened around the letter, the thought sending a jolt through me. No, it couldn’t be. But no matter how I tried to push the idea away, it stayed, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Who are you? I thought, glancing at the gifts again. And why does a part of me want it to be you?

The silence of my house suddenly felt oppressive, wrapping around me like a thick fog. I set the letter down carefully, as if mishandling it might shatter the delicate emotions it carried. But my hands lingered, brushing against the edge of the paper as my thoughts spun out of control.

If it’s not him, then who? The question should have comforted me, but it didn’t. I hated the not knowing. Hated how exposed I suddenly felt, even within the safety of my own home.

I pushed myself up from the chair and moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peer out. The street beyond was quiet, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. No one lingered. No shadows moved. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. My heart hammered in my chest, the unease coiling tighter with each passing second.

But beneath it all, there was a whisper of something softer, quieter. The gifts… they weren’t threatening. They were thoughtful, almost painfully so. Whoever had left them hadn’t meant to scare me. If anything, it felt like they were trying to reach me, trying to tell me something I didn’t yet understand.

My mind betrayed me again, conjuring an image of Hanbin. I could still remember his faint smile, the way his eyes had lingered on me as if he saw through every wall I had ever built. The thought sent a rush of heat to my face, and I turned away from the window, frustrated at myself.

Why him? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? It had only been one meeting—a chance encounter, at best. And yet…

I exhaled sharply, pressing my palms to my temples. "Get it together, Zhang Hao," I muttered under my breath, as if saying it aloud would somehow quiet the chaos inside me.

But it didn’t. And as I glanced back at the gifts one last time, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was it you, Hanbin?

And if it was… what did that mean for me?

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my mind racing. For a fleeting moment, the thought of Hanbin crept up again, so strong, so consuming, that before I even realized it, I whispered, "Hanbin."

The name escaped my lips louder than I intended, as if calling it out could somehow make him appear, could somehow make this strange, unsettling feeling disappear. But nothing happened. The quiet of the room stretched around me, mocking the desperate hope I couldn’t shake.