"Of all the people… why him?" she muttered quietly, not loud enough for anyone to hear. "Why a damn fashion design guy... and why now?"

She glanced sideways at the annoyingly confident boy beside her—Taehyun, the one who just had to follow her here, in her space. He was leaning back in the chair, arms crossed, watching her sketch like he had all the time in the world.

Taehyun caught her glance and smirked.

"Still mad, barista girl?"

Ara rolled her eyes.

"I'm not mad. Just... annoyed."

"Same thing, isn't it?" he teased, nudging her elbow lightly.

"You always look so serious. You're gonna age faster like that."

"Then stop talking. Let me work." Her voice was flat, but her brows twitched.

He leaned in a little, just enough to make her uncomfortable.

"You know," he murmured, voice dropping to something more velvety, "if you were a model, you'd be dangerous. That face, those eyes..." he tilted his head, eyes locked on her, "you'd be my muse."

Ara's hand froze mid-line. The pencil stilled.

That word again.

Model.

Her dream. Her broken dream.

She inhaled slowly, refusing to look at him.

"Don't say things you don't mean," she muttered under her breath.

Taehyun blinked.

"Who says I don't?" he asked, voice softer now. "You're beautiful, Ara. That's not a lie."

She turned her face slightly, still not meeting his eyes.

"That kind of beauty never helped me."

Taehyun tilted his head again.

"What does that mean?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she pressed harder on the sketchpad, her lines becoming sharper, more aggressive. She just wanted this project to end.

They continued working in silence. Tension hung between them like invisible chains.

Then, as Taehyun reached across the table to grab a fabric swatch, the back of his hand brushed gently against her upper arm.

A tiny touch.

But Ara flinched hard, pulling her arm back like she'd been burned. Her eyes widened, breath hitching.

Taehyun's eyes widened too.

"Whoa—Ara—"

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended, trembling with the ghost of a memory.

Taehyun's hands froze in mid-air. His face dropped its usual smirk.

"Sorry.., I didn't mean to—"

"Just don't." Her voice cracked slightly. She turned her head away, hiding the storm rising in her eyes.

"Let's just finish the work."

A heavy silence fell. For the first time, Taehyun saw a crack in her armor—not the angry, cold girl he thought she was. Something deeper. Something haunted.

"Ara..." he said softly, hesitating.

"Are you... okay?"

She didn't respond.

"I mean, I didn't mean anything by it. It was an accident. But... you looked scared. Like..." he stopped himself, realizing he might be stepping on something too personal.

Ara stood up abruptly, hugging her sketchpad to her chest.

"I'm going to submit this to the professor. You can add your notes later."

Before he could say anything else, she walked away.

Taehyun leaned back, his fingers still tingling from that accidental touch. His eyes followed her as she walked.

For the first time since meeting her, his interest wasn't just playful.

It was personal.