Chaos surrounds me. Keyboards click away rhythmically along with the hurried footsteps of colleagues rushing between meetings. I am in the middle of reviewing the agenda for three of my own meetings today. Then there are drafts of new go-to-market graphics waiting for my approval from the design team. On top of that, there are ten unread messages blinking on my work chat, demanding my immediate attention.

Despite it all, my mind keeps going back to one thing. Or rather, one person. I keep thinking of the crushed look on Sonny's face when he was at my place over the weekend for yet another one of our take-out dinners. I'm sure the upscale margherita pizza we got delivered was great, but neither of us really could truly enjoy it.

'Don't be too hard on yourself,' I type out a quick text to Sonny, my fingers flying across the screen. 'Sometimes things just don't go our way, but you will come back stronger.'

By all measures Saturday was of the worst Spurs matches ever, a comprehensive drubbing from Newcastle United, with the opposition scoring five goals in the opening twenty minutes or so. It was so awful, that I could do nothing but just stare, a devastating sense of hopelessness just taking over me. If I felt that awful watching the game, I can only imagine how bad Sonny felt being on the pitch – he takes every loss so personally, putting immense pressure on himself to perform at the highest level. But of course, that's part of what makes him such an incredible athlete.

'Still a little sad T T'

'But happy at least I have you to cheer me up'

'Need to bounce back for United game'

Sonny's string of messages makes my phone buzz multiple times in quick succession.

Did he just send a 'T T'? Is it just me or that's the cutest thing ever?

My mouth curves up into an involuntary grin and I self-consciously bite down on my lower lips to tamp it down. I don't want to smile like an idiot in front of all my coworkers now.

He will bounce back. I have no doubt. That night, I tried my best to cheer him up with a big bear hug. Later, we chatted and joked around as usual but there was a heaviness looming over that we couldn't quite shake off. I am still a Spurs fan and a die-hard one at that – my own disappointment over the match was too much for me to overcome and give out a truly happy energy.

We ended the night with another chaste kiss, our lips brushing together for less than a second, as I patted him on his shoulders.

I don't know if that was enough for him but that's all I had to offer.

The truth is that he doesn't want a real girlfriend. Not with the paparazzi, media, and yada yada yada. And even if he did, it won't be me. I'm nothing other than a temporary companion for his needs. A convenient outlet for that special type of loneliness that family and friends can't cure. And besides, he deserves better than a lying, cheating nobody like me.

Despite knowing this, I can't ignore my heart that still wants him so desperately. So, I've decided to accept the inevitable pain when we part inevitably, rather than be filled with regrets now. That's the choice I've made.

And I want to truly embrace our time together while we are together, basking in the warmth of our ephemeral sunshine. But I have to keep my guard on so as not to lose myself entirely. Because I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll lose this rationality that let me reach this compromise with myself, and unreasonably start wanting more. So many more things that I know I can't have. And what then?

No, we're fine just as we are now. This is the only way. Just enjoy our time together for what it is, nothing more. I sigh.

And if things feel a little unsettled and confusing sometimes, so be it. The very essence of romance is uncertainty. Oscar Wilde.

'Hey, ready to go?'

It takes me a second to register the words, as my reverie is broken by Samantha sliding into the empty chair across from me.

Oh shoot.

I completely blanked on that fact that we planned to catch up over lunch today. Add that to my never-ending list of to-dos.

'Yes, ready. Let's go,' I lie through my teeth. Anyway, a quick break might help me refocus. Maybe I can finally get it together and stop thinking about someone...

As we make our way to a smaller casual cafeteria on the same floor, I feel a strange awkward vibe settling in.

'So, uh, how have you been?' I ask lamely as we pick up food and find seats at the counter. 'Everything good since the trip?'

Samantha nods. 'Yeah, it's been good,' she's short with her answer.

I try to steer the conversation toward her projects, but it falters.

I take a big bite of my egg and cress sandwich and chew unhurriedly, not sure what else to say.

Samantha stares at me with a curious look, as if trying to figure out how to deliver a piece of bad news.

'Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about...something,' she finally speaks up.

Huh? What is this about now?

'Of course! What's up?'

'Well...' Samantha glances away almost shyly. 'It's...it's about Matt,' she pauses. 'I know you guys are close.'

What in the world?

I belatedly remember that weird interaction between the two when she ran into us during lunch. I hadn't really thought much about it since then.

Can you blame me though? I've had a lot on my plate.

'Matt?' is all I can say.

Thankfully, Samantha fills in the rest quickly. 'Well, actually I already knew him before we met that day. You know the holiday party? Last year. Well, we sort of, we sort of, hit it off,' she admits.

Wow. Is this what I think it means?

This is definitely new information. I am not a huge fan of holiday parties and left early to go home and rot in bed, nice and comfy. Matt being Matt of course would have stayed till last call. The Matt I know though, he's definitely had his share of one-night stands, but he doesn't mess around with people at work. For him to have pursued something with Samantha, he must have really liked her. Or he was gloriously drunk out of his mind.

So, girl liked boy, boy liked girl.

What's the issue here exactly?

Clearly, they haven't continued to see each other. And judging by the vibes, they don't seem to be in the best of terms.

'I was just coming out of a relationship at the time, and I ended up ghosting him. Afterwards, that is,' she elaborates slowly. 'I just wonder though, if I made a mistake,' her eyes look almost sad.

I see the full picture now. It all adds up. Matt's petty behavior. The vibe between them. Matt must have been really hurt though, holding onto a grudge like that for months. Poor things. The course of true love never did run smooth. Shakespeare.

A sympathetic smile that tugs at my lips. 'I see. Matt's a really great guy, I can vouch for that. Even if he can be a bit childish at times.' I add at the end.

Samantha nods eagerly. 'Exactly! I could tell. I mean about the great guy part,' she flushes. 'And I feel like we really connected with each other. I just...I don't know, I feel like I messed things up. I didn't mean to,' she looks down. 'I know it's really weird me talking to you about this, but I just wondered whether I should try to see, to see if he's interested in giving it another chance?'

Her cheeks are bright red. I can only guess how much courage it took for her to come out and tell me all of this.

I ponder her question seriously. If she feels so strongly about him, enough to still think about him after so long, surely, it's worth an attempt. Also, knowing how hung-up Matt still is based on his reaction, at the very least it would allow both of them get some closure if nothing else.

'I say go for it. Matt's a softie, I know he'll at least hear you out,' I say carefully. 'Besides 'oh-wells' are always better than 'what-ifs', no?' I smile.

***

'This is really good,' Sonny says for, what feels like, the twentieth time after taking in another forkful of the honey-glazed salmon I cooked. I can't believe I was so terrified that he would hate it – I almost backed out at least five times before mustering the courage to go through with the process.

I may or may not have looked up the recipe from a decade old BuzzFeed list, '32 romantic recipes for a flirty date night at home', but it was still a fair bit of work from the shopping to the prep, to the finishing.

He came in just as I was adding the final scallion and sesame seed garnishes. I had told him that dinner menu today was going to be a secret but his look of surprise and excitement at a simple homecooked meal melted my heart in a puddle.

'I'm glad you like it,' I respond in mock politeness. Taking a sip of grapefruit-flavored sparkling water, I ease back into our conversation about the week's games. 'I think it's still really amazing on how close the match was ultimately. The team has to take that as a positive at this point.' The subtle glow of the dim lighting and the soothing melodies of the lo-fi background music making it easier to talk. It's raining again today, after a week of clear skies, adding to the harmony.

'Hard to see the positives now, but I know you're right,' Sonny says, with a sad smile.

Mid-week, Spurs managed a thrilling draw with Manchester United, followed by a loss to Liverpool earlier today. This last one hurt especially because the team had conceded three goals early on but somehow still came back to make it a 3-3 draw, only to have lost it at the last moment from a horrific error by a player. Football gods can be really cruel sometimes.

'It's nice to have someone I can talk to about all of this, someone who understands,' he adds thoughtfully.

I feel my cheeks heating up. This is the second time this week he's said something similar.

On one hand it feels good that my words have the power to make him feel better. On the other hand, he's going to soon figure it out that something is off. I act like I've never watched football, but somehow, I know the all the match details. I'm not a fan and yet I'm always eager to talk through the game. It makes no goddamn sense if you really think about it. And when he sees through my lies, when he finds out how I deceived him, he will be sick and disgusted. And that will be the end of us.

But what can I do? I can't stop myself. It feels so good, in a way, to process my own feelings as I talk through the game. And more than that, it feels so good to be the one to make the weary look in his eyes disappear, replaced by warm appreciation. It's a high like no other.

And if we are going to end anyway, I might as well ride the highs while I can.

'You know I'm here for you,' I reply softly.

'Yes,' he appears to ruminate. 'I like it here, like this, with you,' he continues after a pause, his gaze so tender that it makes my breath catch.

'I like it too,' I admit, with a smile.

'That's why this is what works. It works the best, you know?' Sonny asserts hotly, the abrupt enthusiasm making me lose the conversation thread. What works the best?

'Restaurants still feel risky, and you would hate the club,' he expounds. 'And there, we wouldn't be able to talk like this, eh?'

Oh, he's talking about us meeting at my place. I guess it's become sort of a routine now – these 'dates' at home. When Sonny called today to ask whether he could come over after the match, it almost felt like a formality.

'I've got this whole...process...of coming and going secretly all figured out,' he says, with a mischievous glint in his eye as if he wants me to praise him for being so clever.

I recoil internally, not knowing how to feel.

Well, he's right that I wouldn't enjoy the club. But as happy as I am that he's figured out a system that allows us to be with each other longer without the threat of the paparazzi, I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt when he spells it out like that.

I...I...I want...No, I can't. The rational part of me knows this is the limit of our connection. I know asking for anything more is just being greedy.

'Hmm, that's good,' I nod impassively. Be reasonable, Bella.

My phone suddenly buzzes with a series of text from Matt.

Matt is one of those people who can never write the full message in one paragraph and instead has to blow up my phone with a steady stream of one-liners. For a second, I'm afraid that my meddling with regards to Samantha has come to haunt me, but no, it's just him asking for help picking out a birthday card for his mum.

With a small sigh of relief, I scroll through the options he sent while nibbling on a piece of roasted potato. The cards are actually really funny, and I giggle out loud, before settling on the one with a borderline sweet message, because what mother wouldn't appreciate that, and putting my phone away.

When I glance up, I catch Sonny looking at the phone, a slight frown flickering across his features before he quickly schools his expression and meets my gaze.

'Who was that?' he asks, tone casual.

'Just my friend Matt,' I explain. 'From work.' I guess I was being rude answering texts in the middle of our dinner, but suddenly I feel defensive. Is he mad at me because I showed bad manners?

Sonny nods, making no further comment.

Speaking about Matt reminds me of work, so I tell him about how Derek's cat walked across his keyboard during a virtual meeting, causing him to accidentally screenshare his browser tab with a search for 'memes to make presentations fun and relatable.' My attempt at a dramatic reenactment of our intern's scornful reaction makes us both laugh so hard that my stomach hurts and I have to cover my mouth so as not to spit out my drink.

***

'You cooked today. So obviously I'm doing the dishes.'

Sonny gathers up the empty plates, rolling up his plain green sweatshirt sleeves as he heads to the sink.

'You really don't have to! It won't take me long,' I argue back.

'Well then that's more reason that I should do it,' he insists.

I give up with a huff, following him to the kitchen with cups and cutlery.

A curl falls forward on his face as he stands at the sink, diligently scrubbing away with such focus and precision, that I can't help but admire his attention to detail. His lips purse in concentration as he attacks a spot of grease with gusto. How can someone look so good doing such a mundane task?

Spellbound, I stand beside him wordlessly, ready to dry the dishes as he hands them to me in our mini-assembly line. Our arms brush occasionally, sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. I can feel his warmth even through the layers of fabric separating us.

It reminds me of the time we were prepping aid packages at that volunteer tent in France. The feeling of being starstruck. The thrill of finding myself close to him so unexpectedly. The precarious bond we built which blossomed into something more. It's been nearly two months since then, but it feels like a scene from another life. I could have never imagined that Son Heung Min would be standing in my apartment like this, washing dishes out of all things, I think with a small sigh.

Done with the washing, he faces me, his deep gaze intent with something I can't quite decipher. This must be all a dream, I think with a flutter through my chest.

'So,' he says, voice low and smooth as honey. 'Should we watch a movie?'

A movie?

That's a first.

My voice catches as I go to reply, but he interjects. 'Of course, if you have time. I don't have practice tomorrow, but you still have work,' he does an apologetic pout.

'A movie sounds good,' I quickly respond emphatically, silently praying my voice doesn't betray the way my heart is pounding.

We move to the living room and settle on the couch.

I turn off the lights without a second thought as I switch on the TV.

Shoot, why did I do that? What would he think?

The shift in the energy is palpable as darkness descends.

I try swat away all intrusive thoughts and act nonchalant, scrolling through the countless streaming services I waste money subscribing to but rarely use.

My eyes stop over a Korean movie that I had heard gotten critical acclaim.

'Should we watch this one?' I ask tentatively. I guess there's a chance he's already watched it.

'Oh, I heard a lot about it. Yeah, if you want,' he's all smiles, without a care in the world.

I press play but soon realize something is wrong with the subtitles. They are from an entirely different scene.

'Looks like the subtitles don't work. I think I mostly understand though. And I can ask you if I don't know a word. You can be my teacher.' I propose jokingly.

'I can do it, but I'm a strict professor, I'm warning you, eh?' he seems excited at the prospect of disciplining me.

I laugh and shake my head, before turning back to the screen.

The movie continues, and we find ourselves drawn in. It's a soft atmospheric drama, subtly pulling at your heartstrings – the type of film that makes you oddly emotional.

The scene shows our hero in an open country field, rain pouring down as he tries to find shelter, while desperately searching for the girl that he loves. The cinematography is beautiful and the pitter patter of the rain from the speakers echoes the gentle drizzle outside our window.

The air in the room is charged with an unspoken ache.

There is a cool breeze wafting in, but I feel cozy and content with Sonny by my side.

Wait.

When did he get so close?

We were definitely sitting further apart before.

I can hardly focus on the screen now, my whole body alert with tension, intensely conscious of him.

Then he starts to shift and I'm aware of every movement even though I'm not even looking at him. Slowly, very slowly, he puts his arm around me.

My heart is beating so loudly, that surely, he can hear it?

A flurry of butterflies dances in my stomach, but it's overpowered by the sheer rightness of his touch. His body is big and warm, enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort. The scent of him, now so familiar, fills my senses.

I move in closer sideways, melting into him. His hand that's around me moves up and down as he makes small strokes with the back of his fingers.

This is different. It feels different than anything we've shared before.

I steal a glance from the corner of my eye, only to find him staring at me, the movie seemingly forgotten.

He leans forward resting his chin on my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck.

'Bella,' he murmurs.

I turn towards him shily, his face inches from mine.

'Bella,' he says again.

'Hmm?' I say quietly, my heart hammering in my chest like a hummingbird.

'Bella,' he repeats, his eyes soulful.

'Yes?' I smile.

'Nothing, I just like saying your name,' he says with a soft smile of his own, playing at the corners of his mouth.

A wave of pure, unadulterated joy washes over me at his words. In this moment, even if it's just for this moment, there's no one happier in this world than me.

He moves in closer, ever so slowly, and presses his lips to mine. Pulling back slightly, he gauges my reaction, before diving in again.

And again. Each kiss is achingly tender, as if he's trying to entice me, convince me, enchant me. There's only him, only this moment, suspended in time like a raindrop on a leaf.

I finally react, moving my lips against his.

That's all the response he needed. He kisses me full-on, with more certainty, his mouth melding with mine with each little assault. The rain outside picks up tempo, heavy drops lashing against the glass.

He pulls me in by the waist until I'm practically in his lap, while never breaking contact. My midi skirt rides above my knees as I tuck in my legs behind me. His one hand splays across the small of my back, while the other hand cups my cheek.

I slowly lift my arms around him, brushing my fingers over the small hairs at the back of his head where it meets his neck.

It seems to drive him wild. He deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I open for him with a soft sigh, reveling in the feel of him. He prods and teases my mouth, taking his time, and I'm dizzy indulging in the sweet sensations.

'You taste so good,' he pulls back gently after what feels like an eternity.

My stomach does a small somersault and heat spreads all the way down to my core.

He hooks a finger through the chain holding his ring around my neck and gives it a light tug, almost possessively.

I obediently move my head closer to him, my nose almost touching his.

He touches my face again and kisses each of my cheeks in silent reverence. Then my chin. And then further down just under my chin.

Lost in the moment, I barely register when his hand that was on my face starts to drift lower below my collarbone.

He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and his hand moves further down...

His lips.

His touch.

It sets my skin on fire.

I want it, God, I want it so badly.

But I can't.

Not yet.

It's too much.

I won't be able to stop if we keep going. I won't be able to keep my senses if we keep going. I'm not ready for this.

Gently, regretfully, but firmly, I push against his chest, breaking the kiss. 'I think...' I trail off, not quite able to finish the sentence.

He shifts backwards immediately, giving me the space I need.

To my relief, there's no anger or frustration in his eyes, only concern. Always so patient, even as I retreat again and again.

Hesitantly, I clamber off his lap back onto the sofa.

The storm outside rages on. I know it will subside. Eventually. But the storm inside me is only just beginning. Because falling for this man is like being caught in a downpour, exhilarating and terrifying all at once. And I'm not sure if I'll ever be quite dry again. What am I doing?

I turn back towards the movie awkwardly, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders once again, tugging me into his side warmly.

'"Oh-wells" are always better than "what-ifs", no?' my words of advice to Samantha ring back hollow in my head – a bittersweet irony. There I was, encouraging Samantha to take a leap of faith, to put her heart on the line. There I was, telling myself I'd rather accept pain than regret. But am I really doing that? I say that I'm trying not to lose my sense of reason, but it just seems like cowardice.

Because the reality is that I let him down. Again. So, what's the point of all this after all?

The rest of the film passes in a blur, the plot barely registering. As the end credits roll, I am numb.

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

Eventually, Sonny turns to me, a thoughtful expression on his face.

'What did you mean?' he asks gently. 'When you said, "we aren't real."'

He's talking about what I texted him when we had our fight: 'Are we even dating?'...'You tell me. It's not like we're real anyway.'

I hesitate, my gaze dropping, not knowing what to say.

'I don't know,' I admit with a sigh. 'It's just... it's not like we can have a normal relationship.' I gulp down. 'I...I don't know.' I end lamely.

There is so much that I want to say, but I can't.

Will I be able to cheer him on smilingly after all this is over? Will there ever be a rainy night again when I won't think of him for the rest of my life?

Sonny is quiet for a long moment, considering my words.

'I see,' he finally speaks.

He reaches out and squeezes my fingers, his gaze never wavering from mine, but he doesn't expand further on his thoughts.

I can't quite return the gesture, not when my heart feels so raw. I know don't have the strength – the strength to hold onto him and make him mine. But whatever we have now, this something, at least it's better than nothing. That much I know for sure.

Sigh. This is enough, I tell myself. This is enough for me.

***

I am staring blankly at my monitor, the cursor blinking mockingly back at me. The words just won't come, no matter how hard I try to focus.

It's well past nine, and the office is almost entirely empty, and I'm still not done with this product release statement I've been working on all day. I thought solitude would help me to concentrate, but each small noise in this stillness only amplifies my distraction.

It's not like me to be this distracted, this scattered. I've always prided myself on my ability to compartmentalize, to neatly pack away my personal life and emotions in order to get the job done. But lately, it seems like all my tried-and-true methods are failing me.

There's only one person in my thoughts, like a song in my head playing in a never-ending loop.

I decide to give up and pack it up for the day. Maybe I'll have another go at home.

As I gather my things, I turn over my phone to quickly check for any missed notifications since I had it on do not disturb mode all this time.

Scrolling through, buried below a slew of work messages, there's Sonny's name.

My heart skips a beat, almost familiarly now.

How can his mere name elicit such a reaction in me even after all this time?

I put down everything and unlock the screen.

'If you don't have anything this Sunday, I was thinking I could pick you up in the morning and we could go somewhere.'

A mix of trepidation and anticipation comes over me.

He's planning ahead. He's never done that before.

And he wants to take me somewhere. Where could it possibly be? Somewhere away from the prying eyes of paparazzi and fans?

I dare not expect too much. I dare not dream of a future that will never be.

Maybe there is no future in this relationship, maybe I shouldn't even call it a relationship. But as I type out my response, my fingers trembling slightly, my stupid heart can't help but hope.

'Sounds good. See you Sunday morning. Xx'