The scent of butter, sugar, and fresh bread wrapped around Soo-min like a warm hug as she stepped into Cloudy Crumbs Bakery the next morning. The soft clink of ceramic mugs, the low hum of morning customers chatting, and the cozy sunlight pouring in through the front windows—it all felt too perfect to be real.
Seong-ho was already behind the counter, his apron slightly crooked, humming as he iced a tray of cupcakes. When he looked up and saw her, his brow lifted.
"Didn't expect you today," he said with a half-smile. "Thought this week was your time off?"
Soo-min gave an awkward laugh as she tied the bakery's spare apron around her waist. "Yeah, I just… thought I'd help out a bit. Couldn't sit around doing nothing."
Seong-ho squinted at her for a second like he was trying to read something written on her forehead, then shrugged. "Alright, not that I'm complaining. Could always use an extra pair of hands."
They started the morning rush—Soo-min trying to act like she knew what she was doing, quietly watching how Seong-ho rang up customers or poured lattes. She fumbled a bit with the cash register, and had no idea how to refill the syrup bottles, but luckily, Seong-ho was too busy to comment much.
Still, in the brief lulls between customers, he kept glancing at her.
"You okay?" he finally asked while wiping down a table. "You've been weird lately."
Soo-min froze, hands halfway into a bin of clean mugs. "Weird how?"
"I dunno… you're just different. Quieter. Slower. Like you're thinking too much." He tossed the rag into the sink and leaned against the counter. "Usually, you're the loud one. Always bossing me around, yelling when I forget to rotate the croissants."
She gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I guess I'm just… tired lately."
Seong-ho didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't push. "Alright, Yura. Just don't burn the place down."
"No promises," she joked, trying to play it off.
But inside, she was unraveling.
Around mid-morning Seong-ho asked her to help bake a new batch of brioche buns.
Soo-min stared at the measuring scale like it was a piece of alien technology.
"Uh… how much is 250 grams of butter supposed to look like again?" she asked, already holding a stick of it with a confused frown.
Seong-ho blinked at her. "You serious?"
She let out a small laugh, trying to brush it off. "I know, I know… embarrassing. It's just—been a while since I baked anything. Got married, went on honeymoon, lost all my baking brain cells somewhere between Seoul and Phuket, I guess."
He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves. "Wow. Marriage really does that to you, huh?"
"Apparently," she said, smiling awkwardly as she stepped aside to let him take over.
Seong-ho showed her how to knead the dough, fold the butter in, and check the elasticity. Every step, every movement he made, looked effortless. For Soo-min, though, it felt like trying to bake in someone else's skin—nothing came naturally.
"You used to make this dough with your eyes closed, you know," Seong-ho said casually as he dusted the counter with flour. "Had this weird habit of singing ballads while you did it."
"Did I now?" she replied, glancing at him with a crooked smile.
Despite the light banter, a knot twisted in her stomach. This wasn't her life. These weren't her memories. But for now, she had to pretend.
Even if she couldn't remember how to bake, she could still fake a smile. That much, at least, she was getting really good at.
______
By early afternoon, the bakery was finally quiet. Most of the morning rush had passed, and the warm scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air like a soft comforter. Soo-min was wiping down the counter when Seong-ho returned from the kitchen holding a steaming cup.
"Here," he said, placing the mug in front of her. "You looked like you needed this."
She blinked. "Is this… hot chocolate?"
"With extra whipped cream. Just how you'll like it."
She hesitated for a second, then smiled and accepted the drink. "Thanks. That's… really sweet."
He shrugged, casually leaning on the counter next to her. "No big deal."
But it kind of was.
It wasn't the hot chocolate—or even the way he remembered how she used to like it. It was the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to say something else but kept swallowing it back.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked after a beat. "You've just been… I dunno. Different lately."
Soo-min stirred the whipped cream into her drink, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I'm just still adjusting. Post-honeymoon blues or something."
"Right. Of course," he said, but his voice was too careful.
There was a pause—just long enough to feel heavy—before he added, "I'm glad you're back, though. The bakery's not the same without you."
She looked up. His gaze lingered a second too long before he looked away, pretending to rearrange some croissants in the display case.
Soo-min's heart gave a strange little twist.
Wait… was he in love with Seo Yura?
Or is it just her imagination? Like super wild imagination?
______
The bakery had quieted down for the day. The last customer had left, the tables were wiped clean, and the warm scent of bread still lingered in the air. Outside, the sky was slowly turning into a canvas of dusky purples and golds.
Soo-min untied her apron, folding it carefully before placing it on the back counter. Her shoulders were a little sore, and she had flour in places she didn't even know she could get flour, but… it was oddly satisfying. For a few hours, she felt like she had a place in this strange world.
Seong-ho had been watching her out of the corner of his eye while pretending to sort through receipts. He leaned against the counter now, his eyes thoughtful.
She turned to grab her tote bag and glanced up at him. "Thanks again for letting me help out today. I know I was a mess."
"You weren't a mess," he said easily, his lips quirking into a small smile. "You were just...rusty."
She laughed at that. "Guess that's fair. Haven't touched an oven in a while. Married life and a honeymoon will do that to you," she joked, forcing a light tone.
He didn't laugh.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Yura…"
Soo-min paused. "Hm?"
He looked like he was weighing his words. "If there's anything bothering you… anything weird going on, you can tell me. I mean it."
There was a stillness to his voice. Gentle, but serious. And Soo-min could feel her heart thump a little faster—not out of fear, but because it caught her off guard. She looked at him, at those sincere eyes that were waiting for something she couldn't give.
Not yet.
"Thanks, Seong-ho," she said, keeping her tone casual. "I'm really okay. Just adjusting, you know?"
"Still," he said, pushing himself off the counter. "Let me walk you home."
Soo-min blinked. "Oh—no, seriously, it's fine. It's just a few blocks, and you've already—"
"I'd feel better if I made sure you got home safe." He grabbed his hoodie from the coat rack and held the door open for her. "Besides, I could use the fresh air."
Soo-min hesitated for a beat, then smiled faintly. "Alright. But only if you carry my bag."
He smirked and held out his hand. "Deal."
They stepped out into the soft twilight. The streets were quiet, the breeze cool against their skin. Streetlamps flickered on one by one, casting a golden glow over the sidewalk. It was a far cry from the world Soo-min knew—or thought she knew. But in this peaceful moment, it felt… almost like home. And she actually like it. She like it more that her actual life. Soo-min's life.
"So…" Seong-ho said as they walked side by side, "any plans for tomorrow?"
She chuckled. "Survive another day and messing around in Cloudy Crumbs?"
He laughed, shaking his head.
They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Not awkward, but not overly familiar either. It was strange—this was a man who, in her real life, she'd only seen on TV. And yet here they were, walking home like old friends.
Soo-min glanced sideways at him. She could see the way he occasionally glanced back at her, like he was still trying to figure her out. Like something about her just didn't add up.
And he wouldn't be wrong.