Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Zuri as she slowly emerged from the cocoon of her blankets. It was 8:30 AM, and the world outside seemed to have already sprung to life. Zuri, however, felt like she was moving through molasses, her head pounding in protest and her body sluggish from the aftereffects of the Soju. The memories from last night swirled in her mind, a cocktail of regret and embarrassment. She buried her head into her pillow, wishing the day would end before it could begin.

Zuri lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and reflecting on the events of last night. She felt an intense sense of shame about the way she had behaved and couldn't help wondering what the repercussions would be. Did Suho see her differently now? Or worse, did he not want to see her at all?

As she replayed their fight in her mind, a pit grew in her stomach.

There's no coming back from this. I ruined it. This was the worst fight ever. Why am I so careless and dumb? She thought to herself.

Stumbling into the kitchen, she was enveloped by the enticing aroma of blueberry pancakes sizzling on the griddle and sausages browning in the pan. Jordan was already at the table, hungrily devouring his breakfast. He glanced up briefly, offering a nod of appreciation towards the stove, a silent yet heartfelt thanks to their mom.

As she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, the comforting aroma of blueberry pancakes and sizzling sausage enveloped her, a stark contrast to the turmoil within. There, Jordan was already devouring his breakfast, his appreciation evident in every enthusiastic bite.

"Thanks, Mom," Zuri murmured, her words a soft echo in the bustling room. But as she glanced up, expecting to see her mother, her eyes met a different, yet equally comforting sight. There was Suho, standing by the stove, flipping pancakes with an ease that spoke of familiarity and warmth. His smile greeted her, a beacon of understanding amidst the storm of her emotions.

Zuri's heart did a precarious pirouette. She'd half-expected, half-dreaded waking up to find Suho gone, their complex relationship severed by the harsh words she'd unleashed the night before. Yet here he was, as if the night's tensions were just a figment of her imagination, flipping pancakes and sharing smiles with her mother.

Realizing she'd been staring, Zuri quickly composed herself, the surprise of seeing him there still lingering like a delicate fragrance. She reached for a plate, her movements a little more measured, a little more aware. The kitchen buzzed with the symphony of breakfast - the hiss of the griddle, the clink of cutlery, the soft murmur of morning conversations.

As she took her seat at the table, Suho brought the pancakes and sausages to join the plate of eggs and perfectly ripe bananas Esha had already set down.

Breakfast unfolded like a scene from a different life, one where mistakes didn't hang heavy between words, where smiles weren't loaded with unspoken apologies. Suho was across from her, every casual glance and every small grin sending ripples of what felt like an apology through the tense air.

Zion, her father, shuffled in, his presence a comforting constant in the otherwise uncertain morning. He mumbled his goodbyes, his attention briefly on Suho, before shuffling out, the day calling him elsewhere. The sounds of dishes, the sizzling skillet and the hum of conversation slowly dissipated. Jordan left the house. A relative peace settled over the house.

Their mother smiled brightly. "Well, it's nice to see you here so early, Suho. I have to go to work now; maybe you can watch the TV and Zuri can clean up, hmmm?" As soon as the door closed behind her.

And then, it was just Suho and Zuri, alone with the remnants of their breakfast and the remnants of their argument. The silence wasn't heavy, but it wasn't light either; it was a delicate balance, a moment suspended in time.

Finally, Zuri gathered the scattered pieces of her courage. "We should talk about last night," she ventured, her voice a soft tremor in the quiet kitchen.

Suho's response was immediate, his hands reaching across the table to hold hers, a physical anchor in the emotional storm. His eyes locked with hers, a sea of calm and reassurance. "Okay, let's talk," he agreed, his voice as gentle as his gaze.

Zuri inhaled deeply, willing the knot in her stomach to unravel. This was their chance. It could be a make or break moment and all the cards were laid out on the table.