Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

46. The Reasoning

Frost had painted delicate patterns on the window screens overnight, each crystalline branch catching the wan morning light.

Seong-hwan shifted, the weight of his body fighting him, as though gravity itself had thickened overnight.

A soft creak from the bedding broke the silence, his breath shallow as he blinked into the unfamiliar room.

His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was.

The world around him came into focus slowly. The scent of herbal remedies lingered in the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of ginger. His body felt weak, his movements sluggish as he propped himself up slightly. The effort sent a dull throb through his limbs, but he ignored it.

In one, he glimpsed Nandi asleep in a chair beside his bed, her head resting against Tae-young's shoulder.

The scholar's fingers absently stroked her hair, his other hand holding an open book he wasn't reading.
In another, Min-joon's voice drifted through paper screens: "But I want to see him..."

"Not yet," Tae-young's voice, gentle but firm. "Let him rest."

"But...appa...."

The word struck, forcing Seong-hwan back into darkness.

Soon enough through the thin slats of the door, he caught glimpses of movement. Nandi sat near the courtyard, her figure illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby lantern.

Tae-young stood beside her, his broad frame casting long shadows across the ground. Min-joon hovered behind him, peeking out occasionally, his small hand clutching Tae-young's robe.

Seong-hwan's chest tightened as he watched them. Tae-young leaned down slightly, his voice low as he spoke to Min-joon. The boy hesitated, then nodded, his small form moving closer to Tae-young, as if seeking comfort.

Tae-young rested a reassuring hand on Min-joon's shoulder, his expression soft and steady. Nandi glanced at them, her face tired but calm, the faintest smile playing at her lips as she watched the two interact.

Seong-hwan's gaze lingered on her. Even in exhaustion, she held an air of grace, her presence grounding. But there was something about the way she looked at Tae-young, the way he stood so naturally beside her, that made Seong-hwan's throat tighten.

He looked away, the weight in his chest almost unbearable. Sliding back into the shadows of the room, he closed his eyes and let the sound of their muffled voices fade into the background.

Later the following day the soft clink of porcelain pulled Seong-hwan from his thoughts. Nandi entered the room quietly, her hands carrying a tray of tea. Her steps were light, measured, as though not to disturb him, but her gaze immediately found his as she set the tray down.

"You're awake," she said softly.

He nodded, his movements slow. "For now."

She hesitated, then poured him a cup, placing it beside him before sitting a careful distance away. For a while, they said nothing, the quiet between them stretching. Finally, Seong-hwan broke the silence.

"I saw you last night," he said, his voice low. "With him."

Nandi's hands stilled, her fingers lightly gripping the edge of her robe. "Tae-young has been helping," she said carefully. "With Min-joon. With everything." 

"He's more than that to you, isn't he?" The words escaped before Seong-hwan could stop them, sharper than he intended. 

The flicker of pain that crossed her face made his stomach twist, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she held his gaze, her voice calm but steady. "I love him."