Mian had started to avoid him—and Jin noticed every bit of it.
She would leave the house before he returned home at night, timing her exit like clockwork. In the mornings, she would quietly slip into his space, complete her chores with meticulous care, and vanish before he even opened his eyes.
She was there, but she wasn't present—and Jin felt that absence in every inch of the space she once filled with warmth.
When he called for tea, she would deliver it promptly, her eyes never meeting his. She stood a safe distance away, spoke only when necessary, and disappeared like mist in the morning sun.
It wasn't just distance.
It was withdrawal.
Avoidance.
Rejection.
And it was driving Jin mad.
He stared at the untouched cup of tea she had brought that morning, still warm but forgotten. His heart churned with questions he didn't have answers to. He clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of his desk.
"Why would she avoid me like this…?" he muttered under his breath.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He grabbed his phone and dialed his bodyguard. "Tell her I need her. Upstairs. Now."
A few minutes passed.
Mian stood outside his door, hesitant, her hand trembling slightly as she knocked. There was no reply.
She waited a beat longer and slowly turned the knob. She barely stepped one foot inside when—
In a flash, Jin was in front of her. He pulled her inside and slammed the door shut behind them.
Before she could react, he pinned her against it.
His hands braced on either side of her shoulders. His eyes, dark with a swirl of frustration and hurt, bore into hers.
Mian gasped, stunned by the sudden closeness—the fire in his eyes. Her breath caught, her heartbeat pounding against her chest like it was trying to escape.
"Why?" Jin asked, his voice low but intense. "Why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not—" she tried, her voice faltering.
"Don't lie to me, Mian," he said, almost pleading now. "Don't pretend like I can't see it. You won't look at me. You won't stay near me. You're here but you're not with me."
She lowered her gaze, unable to withstand the weight of his stare.
"I just…" her voice broke. "I just thought… maybe it's better this way."
"Better?" Jin echoed, his voice rising slightly. "Better for who? Because it's not better for me."
He looked at her, searching her expression for answers, for some sign of what had changed.
"I know I teased you. I know I pushed boundaries. But I never thought I made you uncomfortable enough to run away from me like this," he said, more softly now. "If I did… I'm sorry."
Mian's eyes welled with unshed tears, her hands clutching the fabric of her skirt.
"It's not that," she whispered. "It's not that I'm uncomfortable. That's the problem…"
Jin leaned in slightly, his brows furrowing. "Then what is it?"
She bit her lip, her words trembling on the edge of truth. "You're starting to feel like… more than I can handle. More than I should want."
Jin's breath stilled.
There it was.
The confession buried beneath silence. The truth she had been hiding behind distance and routine.
"You think I don't feel the same?" he asked gently. "You think I haven't been lying awake at night wondering why it hurts when you're not here? Why everything feels colder when you leave too early and emptier when you're not in my space?"
Mian finally looked up at him, her tears glimmering under the soft light.
"I'm scared, Jin," she admitted. "I'm just the help. I wasn't supposed to feel this way."
"And I wasn't supposed to fall for someone who makes tea and wakes me up with sunshine," Jin said with a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But here we are."
His hand lingered at the side of her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment—then quickly opened again, reality flooding back.
"I still think it's wrong," she whispered. "You're… you."
"And you're everything I didn't know I needed," he said firmly. "So stop running. Let me in."
Their breath mingled in the inches between them, fragile and fiery.
Mian didn't say yes.
But she didn't say no either.
And for now, that was enough.
Jin stepped back slowly, giving her space—not out of rejection, but out of respect. He opened the door behind her and said gently,
"You're free to go… but I hope you stay."
She stood there for a moment, frozen in time.
Then she walked out—head low, heart heavy.
But the warmth of his hand still lingered on her skin.
And as the door clicked shut, Jin leaned against it from the other side, closing his eyes.
Mian came home earlier than usual that day.
Her mother, who had been quietly observing for some time, sat at the kitchen table peeling apples. She glanced up as her daughter entered.
"You're home early… again," she said softly.
Mian didn't respond.
Her mother placed the knife down gently, watching her. "Are you avoiding your boss?" she asked, cutting straight to the point, like mothers do when they already know the truth.
Mian paused for a second, then shook her head, voice quiet and detached. "No… I'm not."
She headed inside, her footsteps light but hurried—like someone trying to walk away from the weight of their own thoughts.
But her mother knew better. She could see it in her daughter's eyes—the flicker of something unspoken. Something fragile.
Mian entered her room and sat on the edge of her bed, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her mind circled around Jin. The way he looked at her. The way he held her. The way her name sounded different when he said it.
She smiled faintly, then curled under her blanket.
Sleep came quickly—but peace did not.
The next morning, a weekend.
The sun cast gentle rays across the marble floors as Mian moved through the mansion like a ghost—silent, graceful, distant.
She did her work with practiced routine: setting the curtains, checking the temperature of the bathwater, fluffing the pillows. Eventually, she walked up to Jin's room with practiced steps, knocked softly, and entered.
He was still in bed, eyes half-closed.
"Good morning," he greeted with a warm, sleepy smile, his voice still laced with dreams.
Mian looked at him and nodded softly. "Good morning, sir."
He got up and headed to the bathroom.
While he bathed, she went downstairs and prepared his tea, as she always did—jasmine, no sugar, just the way he liked it.
She returned to his room and placed the tray gently on his side table, adjusting it with care.
Just as she turned to leave, she felt a warm hand snake around her waist. She froze.
"Have you thought about it?" Jin's voice was soft behind her. Almost a whisper.
Mian swallowed. "I just… need a little more time, sir."
Jin exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Take your time," he said gently.
He let go of her waist, and she slipped out the door like a breeze escaping a window before it slams shut.
Downstairs, moments later.
An unfamiliar presence filled the air.
An elegant woman in high heels and a designer coat sat on the living room couch, legs crossed, confidence oozing from every angle. Mian spotted her and walked over.
"Good day, ma'am. How may I help you?" Mian asked with her usual courtesy.
The woman barely glanced at her. "Get me a drink. Something decent."
Then, turning to the bodyguard at the door, she said, "Tell your boss I'm here. He knows who I am."
The bodyguard nodded and left the room.
Moments later, he returned. "Sir… your blind date from before is here," he reported.
Jin's face changed instantly.
What the hell is she doing here? he thought.
Frustrated, he buttoned up his shirt quickly, ran his hands through his hair, and rushed downstairs.
When he got there, Mian was just placing a glass of juice in front of the woman.
The moment the lady saw Jin, her face lit up. "Baby," she said loudly, standing to meet him with open arms.
Mian didn't need to hear another word. The sting from that one word—baby—was more than enough. Her face remained calm, but her heart wasn't. She bowed slightly and excused herself without a word, disappearing into the kitchen.
Behind the counter, she let out a bitter laugh.
"Baby?" she whispered to herself. "So that's what I am, just a passing job. What am I even thinking?"
She shook her head in disbelief. "What's Jin even up to…"
Meanwhile, in the sitting room…
The woman walked up to Jin with a pout. "I called you. I texted. You didn't answer anything. So I asked your mom where you lived, and she gave me your address. She said you've been… distracted lately."
She reached out to fix his collar, but the coldness in Jin's eyes made her hand hesitate.
"Leave," he said flatly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said leave. You weren't invited here."
Turning to his bodyguard, he added sharply, "Escort her out."
"But Jin, listen—"
"I don't have time for this." His voice was firm and void of any affection.
She was escorted out—heels clicking, ego bruised.
Jin stood there for a moment, his heart heavy, his eyes tracing the direction Mian had disappeared to. He wanted to go after her. To explain. To stop whatever wall she was building between them. But work was calling, and for now… he had to leave.