Seo-jin and her team had arrived early and spent over an hour setting up the meeting room. Storyboards, design decks, material swatches – all arranged. Min-su’s firm was evolving, and her team had meticulously shaped the visual and narrative identity that would define its future.

At the centre of the room, Seo-jin led the review.

"The transition from a legacy brand isn’t just about polish," Seo-jin explained, her voice clear and direct. "It’s about resonance. This concept leans on our original design philosophy but reframes it through clarity and scale."

Do-yeon shifted the slides on the large screen, elegant logo sketches, architectural renderings paired with precise messaging language. Hyun-woo stood across the room, his eyes fixed on the layout.

"...and this thread," Seo-jin continued, her voice gaining a soft conviction, "'structure as intimacy' – it’s where our architecture meets our voice. We don’t just build. We anchor."

A beat of silence hung in the air. Do-yeon shifted in her chair, her eyes flicking from Seo-jin to Hyun-woo. Still nothing from him. Not even a blink.

"That completes the brand arc," Seo-jin concluded, her voice softening slightly. "I’ll walk the team through application strategies after this." She looked across the room. Hyun-woo was taking a sip of coffee, not even looking at her now. Do-yeon saw the quiet disappointment land in Seo-jin’s chest, a subtle shift in her posture.

People around the table nodded, a few offered quiet smiles. Min-su gave an approving grunt from the corner. "You took all our values on board here. It’s strong. Bold but honest. We’d like to look over this for a day or so and perhaps we can come together again and revise where needed."

"Fantastic pitch, Seo-jin," Soo-hyun added, his usual playful tone subdued.

Chairs scraped. People began to move, gathering their notes.

The Director spoke, turning to Min-su and Hyun-woo. "I trust you have time for lunch, gentlemen? We would welcome the chance to take you out."

Min-su looked at Soo-hyun and Hyun-woo, ready to accept. "I’m sure we can all make the time for..."

Hyun-woo cut him off, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Sorry. I won’t be able to make it. I have other commitments."

Soo-hyun's face dropped slightly, and Min-su looked a little surprised.

"Are you sure?" Soo-hyun pressed. "I thought we’re not back on site till late this afternoon."

"Things I need to check on before that visit," Hyun-woo replied, his tone final.

Min-su tried to make light of the situation. "Well, even if Hyun-woo can’t make it, we would love the opportunity."

Hyun-woo had already gathered his things and was leaving. He offered a quick, formal bow to the director and the room as he exited.

An awkward silence settled in the room for a second after he left. The director broke the silence.

"Well, let's go to my office while we wait on the team tidying up," as walked towards the door to lead then out. Min-su and Soo-hyun dipped their heads to the team as they left.

As soon as the door closed, Do-yeon stepped close to Seo-jin, her voice low, for her friend’s ears only. "You really thought he’d say something?" she asked, without a trace of sarcasm.

Seo-jin didn’t answer, her eyes locked on the display in front of her, her hands too still.

"Don’t twist yourself waiting for a reaction from someone who’s still learning what feelings are," Do-yeon gently urged.

Seo-jin gave the faintest smile, a mere twitch of her lips. But it never reached her eyes.

They began packing up with the others, but something inside Seo-jin just quietly... folded.

Hyun-woo exited the main building, stepping out into the late morning light. He strode across the car park's grey surface, his footsteps ringing sharp and distinct in the open air. From a distance, he unlocked the car, the indicators flashing a brief, silent greeting.

He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He closed the door with a little too much force, the thud echoing in the confined space. Now safely in a muted world, with only the low muffled noise of the outside seeping into the vehicle. 

He just stared forward, his expression blank. His jaw tight, a hard line, and his hands clenched lightly around the steering wheel, then slowly released. He exhaled sharply through his nose, one hand rising to rub at the bridge of his nose, a gesture of frustration, annoyance, not with her, but with himself.

He tilted his head back against the headrest, eyes closed. The silence stretched, deep and heavy. He opened his eyes, glancing at the rearview mirror, not for the road, but for himself, like he barely recognized the person staring back.

"Ridiculous," he murmured under his breath, barely audible. "Solves nothing!"

His fingers hovered near the ignition, poised to start the car. They paused. Then dropped away. He stayed seated, unmoving. He didn’t drive. He just sat there and breathed.