When Sea Meets the Shore

by adleyyyy

Summary:

After nearly drowning at sea, Milk is mysteriously rescued—though with little to no memory of it. Soon after, a strange, silent, barefoot woman named Love appears, following Milk wherever she goes. Unfamiliar with the world, Love, drawn by an unexplainable connection to Milk, breaks the sacred rule of her kind and leaves the sea behind to follow Milk onto land.

Despite her confusion, Milk takes her in, and a strong bond begins to form between them—one that may be deeper and more magical than Milk ever expected.

Chapter 1: Somewhere Across The Sea

Milk buried her feet in the sand, letting the warmth of the shore seep through her skin. The scent of salt hung in the air, brushing past her nose as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 

She felt awful, anxious, defeated, completely lost.

 

Losing her job had knocked the wind out of her. How was she supposed to survive now with bills stacking up and no paycheck coming in?

 

It wasn’t even her fault. She was fired for something she didn’t do.

 

Office politics.

 

It was cruel and unfair.

 

“I hate this life,” she muttered to no one but the waves.

 

She visited their province. To the small, quiet town where she grew up, where she and her father had lived before everything changed.

 

Their house, dusty and untouched, still stood the same. No one had lived there in years, but it somehow still felt like home.

 

She had left this place after her dad passed. The city had promised her a better life, or at least a more stable one. But truthfully? It drained her.

 

You work nonstop, push your limits every single day, just to survive… just to pay rent and eat and maybe save a little, if you’re lucky. But it was never enough. Not really.

 

Now that she was back, surrounded by the quiet and the sea breeze, a wave of nostalgia hit her. She missed her father more than she’d allowed herself to admit in years.

 

 

It was around five in the afternoon when she got the sudden urge to take the old wooden boat out to sea. No plans. Just her, a paddle, and the open water.

 

She rowed until the shoreline became nothing but a blur behind her.

 

She wasn’t even a strong swimmer… never had been. No life jacket, no one around, just the sea and her half-baked bravery. Maybe stupidity, too. Definitely a bit of that.

 

Her dad used to take her out here when she was little. He was a fisherman, and he’d let her sit beside him, pointing out fish, teaching her how to toss a net and read the water. He even tried to teach her how to swim, but she always hesitated when the water got too deep. It scared her. The thought of being surrounded by nothing, the kind of deep that looked back at you.

 

And yet, here she was. Alone in the middle of the sea, trying to feel closer to him. Like maybe if she listened hard enough, she’d hear his voice in the wind or feel his presence in the gentle rocking of the boat.

 

But the calm didn’t last.

 

The waves started shifting, swelling larger, rougher. The sky hadn’t changed much, but the sea had turned.

 

It started small, then bigger and stronger. Her heart began to race.

 

“No, no…” she whispered, panic starting to creep up her throat.

 

This wasn’t how she imagined it would go.

 

She didn’t come out here to die. She just wanted to feel something again.

 

 

She clutched the sides of the boat tighter as it rocked violently. The paddle slipped from her hand, floating away before she could even think of grabbing it.

 

“Shit shit!” She hissed, heart hammering now.

 

Another wave hit the side. Hard. And the boat tilted dangerously.

 

“No, no, no—”

 

And then it happened.

 

A final, unforgiving shove from the sea, and her body fell. Her hands lost grip. The boat tipped. And she was in the water.

 

Cold. Immediate. Swallowing.

 

She went under before she could scream, her body spinning in the current. Water rushed up her nose, filled her mouth, burned her eyes. She kicked, tried to swim, reached for something—anything… but the sea had no edges to hold onto.

 

Up. She needed to go up.

 

Her arms waved through the water, chest screaming for air, legs heavy like anchors. She broke the surface with a gasp that felt more like a sob, looking for air as the waves slapped her again.

 

“Help!” she cried, even though she knew no one would hear.

 

There was no one around. Just her voice swallowed by the wind and the endless stretch of sea.

 

The boat was drifting further. Useless now.

 

She tried to tread water. Her father taught her to stay calm, to float on her back if it ever came to this but that was years ago. She hadn’t listened. She’d been too afraid back then.

 

And now she was terrified.

 

“Please…” she whimpered. Her muscles ached. Her lungs burned. The sea kept pulling, dragging her under inch by inch like it had made up its mind.

 

Just when she thought she couldn’t keep herself above the surface any longer, a sudden calmness settled over her. Not from the sea, but inside her. Almost like her body accepted it.

 

Maybe this was it.

 

But then, somewhere in her spinning head, she remembered his voice. Steady. Calm. Her father’s voice cutting through the panic like a lighthouse in the dark.

 

“Don’t fight it. Breathe. You can do this. Just float.”

 

She turned onto her back, chest heaving, limbs spread, letting the water hold her for a second.

 

And the sea… it held her.

 

She closed her eyes. Tears slid down, mixing with the sea.

 

“I miss you, Dad,” she whispered, barely audible over the water.

 

Then her body started sinking again…

 

And then… something brushed against her hand. Something solid. Something warm.

 

At first, Milk thought it was just seaweed or maybe driftwood, but when she opened her eyes, something shimmered underneath the water… a flicker of movement, too graceful to be anything ordinary.

 

Then a face appeared.

 

Startlingly close.

 

Eyes like the deepest parts of the sea—big, round, dark eyes staring at her. Long, brown hair floated around her like silk, strands waving with the current. Her skin glowed faintly, luminous and otherworldly, and where legs should’ve been, there was a long, glistening tail, shifting shades of pink and sapphire.

 

Milk blinked, she opened her mouth then closed again…bubbles came out from her mouth. Not sure if she was hallucinating or dying.

 

The figure moved fast. Faster than human. Smooth, deliberate. She pulled her hands from under the water and emerged, cradling her gently, lifting her chin above the surface with surprising strength and care.

 

Milk stared, trembling and dazed, not even fighting the arms around her.

 

The girl wrapped an arm around Milk’s torso and began swimming, pulling her effortlessly through the waves.

 

Milk's mind was still spiraling. Was this real? Was she dreaming? Dying? She thought.

 

Her body felt limp, heavy, exhausted.

 

With one strong flick of her shimmering tail, she pushed them forward through the water like it was nothing.

 

Minutes passed before Milk felt solid sand under her back again. She was on the shore, coughing up seawater, lungs burning.

 

She rolled to her side, breathing hard, drenched and shaking.

 

And there she was.

 

The girl from the water.

 

Perched on a rock just a few feet away, half in the sea, half out. Her hair clung to her shoulders in damp strands. And her eyes still glowing, watched Milk like she had been waiting for this moment all along.

 

Not a minute later, Milk passed out.

 

 

The sun had set beneath the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep blues and shadows. The gentle crashing of the waves was the only sound until a flickering light approached, soft and golden against the night.

 

An old fisherman, weathered by years at sea, held a rusted kerosene lamp in his hand as he walked along the shoreline. He paused when he spotted something unusual near the water’s edge.

 

A body.

 

A woman.

 

She lay motionless, soaked, her hair tangled with sand and seaweed, lips pale from the cold.

 

“What happened to her…?” he muttered to himself, his brows knitting together with concern.

 

He hurried closer, kneeling beside her. Gently, he shook her shoulder.

 

“ Hija … wake up…”

 

Milk stirred, her brows furrowing before her eyes flew open. She coughed violently, body heaving as seawater spilled from her mouth. Her limbs trembled from the cold, and she gasped for breath like she had just escaped drowning.

 

The fisherman placed a hand on her back, steadying her. “Easy now. You’re safe.”

 

“ Hija , are you okay? What happened to you?”

 

Milk looked up at him, confused, her lips trembling as she tried to make sense of her surroundings.

 

“I…” her voice cracked. “I don’t… know.”

 

Her gaze swept the shoreline, then the dark sea behind her, the empty space. Just darkness and the sound of the waves.

 

‘What happened?’

 

Her memory was almost blank. Only flickered of vague scenarios.

 

Nothing. Just the boat. The fall. The drowning. And nothing after that. Not the touch that had calmed her. Not the woman that had saved her.

 

She didn’t remember being saved.

 

“I can’t remember…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

 

The old man frowned, concern deepening in his face. “Let’s get you warm first, hija . Come. We’ll figure it out later.”

 

He helped her to her feet slowly, wrapping his coat around her trembling frame. She leaned against him, weak and shaken.

 

Behind them, the sea rolled on, silent and vast. And beneath the surface somewhere deep where the stars didn’t reach, a pair of round, dark brown eyes watched from the shadows, soft, distant, and full of something unspoken.

 

 

“You don’t really remember anything?” the old fisherman asked, his face lined with concern and curiosity. His brows furrowed, a mix of confusion and pity in his expression as he handed her a steaming cup of coffee.

 

Milk wrapped her hands around the warm mug, grateful for the heat. She tried again to search the corners of her memory, to recall what happened after the sea pulled her under. There was only a scattered trail of pieces. Sitting at the shore, rowing the boat without thinking, calling out for her father as the water swallowed her whole… and then—nothing.

 

She gave a faint shake of her head. “That’s all I remember,” she murmured as she tell the old man the fragments of her memory.

 

“I didn’t see any boat nearby,” the old man replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It must’ve been wrecked out at sea. But what I can’t figure out is… how did you survive? Sometimes the sea is unforgiving.”

 

Milk looked down at her coffee, frowning. “Guess I’m just lucky.”

 

Or maybe it was her father’s spirit who guided her after she called out his name. She thought to herself.

 

Silence lingered, broken only by the hum of crickets outside and the faint crash of distant waves.

 

The old fisherman tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming in the soft lamplight. There was something in his gaze, something ancient, something knowing.

 

“Or could it be…” he said slowly, his voice trailing off like the start of an old story.

 

Milk looked up. “Could it be… what?”

 

“A mermaid.”

 

Something flicked inside her, a flicker of something she couldn’t name. Milk didn’t know how to respond. She had grown up hearing those stories, the ones old folks whispered to children to keep them from wandering too far into the sea. Tales of beautiful, dangerous creatures with long shimmering tails and haunting songs.

 

Her father had told her those stories too. He used to warn her never to go out alone, always ending the story with, "If the sea wants you, it'll send someone to take you."

 

“Are you saying… a mermaid saved me?” she asked, half-laughing, half-serious.

 

The old man nodded, settling into the chair across from her at the small wooden table. The only light came from the rusted lamp between them, casting long shadows on the walls.

 

“I’m not sure I believe in mermaids.” Milk said, forcing a weak smile.

 

The old fisherman leaned back slightly, eyes calm. “They say mermaids can erase memories. It’s how they protect themselves… to make sure no one remembers seeing them. Maybe that explains why you only recall fragments.”

 

Milk let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “So let me get this straight… When I drowned, a mermaid pulled me out and wiped my memory away so I wouldn’t go telling people?”

 

He nodded again, entirely serious.

 

She didn't say anything more. She couldn’t bring herself to argue. It sounded ridiculous. Absurd, even. In her mind, mermaids weren’t real. Just stories. Just folklore meant to keep children and people like her in check.

 

But still…

 

There was that flicker.

 

That strange, peaceful moment when she’d felt like someone was holding her.

 

That calm, glowing presence she couldn’t quite explain.

 

‘No. It wasn’t real.’

 

‘It couldn’t be.’

 

 

Later that night, Milk returned to the old house, quiet, weathered, and not far from the sea. The salt in the air lingered, and the creaking of the wooden floor echoed every step she made. She lay down on the small bed in what used to be her father’s room, now her only place of rest.

 

But sleep wouldn’t come.

 

Her body was tired, her limbs heavy, but her mind kept spinning, replaying everything that had happened, everything she couldn't remember.

 

It took her more than an hour before sleep finally caught up with her.

 

And when it did… so did the sea.

 

In her dreams, she was back in the water. The waves roared around her, wild and merciless. She was drowning again—gasping, kicking, crying for help. It felt too real. Too close.

 

Then suddenly, through the chaos, a figure appeared.

 

A woman.

 

Milk couldn’t see her face clearly. Everything was blurry, distorted like it was still underwater. But the woman reached out and held her hands, firm and warm, pulling her toward the surface.

 

Milk tried to speak, tried to see her face, to remember but it all slipped away. Everything was dark, except for one thing…

 

Those eyes.

 

Deep, round, and dark brown. Almost glowing.

 

Watching her. Saving her.

 

Still trembling and gasping, Milk sat up slowly. It was already early in the morning. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm her nerves.

 

Then she heard it.

 

A sound.

 

A soft rustling coming from the kitchen.

 

Milk froze.

 

Every muscle in her body tensed. She wasn’t imagining it… there was someone in her kitchen.

 

Silently, barefoot, she got up and tiptoed toward the living room. Her eyes scanned the floor for anything she could use and spotted a thick, hardcover book sitting on the nearby shelf. It was her father’s old fishing log. Heavy enough. Solid.

 

She picked it up, clutching it tight in both hands.

 

The rustling continued.

 

She approached the kitchen slowly, every step measured, breath shallow.

 

And then—

 

She peeked around the corner, book raised, ready to swing.

 

But what she saw made her freeze again but not out of fear this time.

 

A woman was crouched in front of the bottom cabinet, her back to Milk. She was rummaging clumsily through leftover groceries and foods. Crumbs trailed along the floor. In her other hand was an open pack of biscuits, half-eaten, with one in her mouth as she chewed, completely unaware of the panic she’d just caused.

 

Milk’s voice shot out, sharp and alarmed.

 

“Who are you?!”

 

The woman startled, hitting her head lightly against the cabinet door as she jerked upright.

 

She turned around slowly, eyes wide, cheeks full like a guilty squirrel caught red-handed. The woman looked at her in complete shock. Her eyes were full of sense of familiarity.

 

Biscuit crumbs on her shirt, and a can of sardines clutched like it was a precious treasure.

 

Milk lowered the book slightly but didn’t relax completely. “You… how did you get here? What are you doing here?”

 

The woman blinked, then held up the biscuits with both hands, like she was offering tribute. She chewed quickly and swallowed.

 

‘She must be starving.’ Somehow Milk felt a pity towards the woman.

 

Milk exhaled.

 

Deeply.

 

“You can’t just go breaking into people’s houses and eating their food,” Milk muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

 

The woman looked at her, confused.

 

Milk realized she left the window open last night, the woman must have climbed through the windows earlier.

 

The mysterious woman was wearing clothes that clearly didn’t belong to her, an oversized t-shirt that hung awkwardly over a pair of faded shorts, and her feet were bare, covered in specks of sand. Her hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends.

 

Milk’s eyes softened slightly. “You’re hungry,” she said, her voice quieter now. Less alarmed. More curious.

 

Milk moved around the kitchen, still unsure if she should be annoyed or concerned. She grabbed a few eggs and stepped over to the stove.

 

“You can sit, you know,” she said, glancing behind her.

 

The woman was still standing there, quietly, right by the edge of the kitchen, hands were folded awkwardly in front of her, eyes watching every move Milk made, like cooking was some kind of magic.

 

“I’m just making breakfast,” Milk added, cracking the eggs into the pan.

 

Still, the woman didn’t sit. She stayed perfectly still, only her eyes moving as they followed the sizzle of the eggs and the steam rising from the pan. Like every sound was new. Like she was learning.

 

Milk tried not to let it weird her out.

 

She took a deep breath and focused on cooking, simple scrambled eggs, a bit of garlic fried rice from last night. It didn’t take long. The scent of warm garlic and butter filled the kitchen, and the woman sniffed the air again, visibly intrigued.

 

“Okay,” Milk said, placing two plates on the small table. “Food’s ready.”

 

The woman stepped forward slowly now, drawn by the smell. She sat when Milk did, mirroring her movements cautiously.

 

Milk handed her a spoon.

 

The woman stared at the spoon, intrigued. Because from where she came from they never used a spoon or even a fork. This was new to her. But she took it anyway.

 

She watched Milk used the spoon and followed her movements like she was learning. The woman looked at the spoonful of food like it might vanish if she blinked. Then she took a bite.

 

Her eyes lit up instantly, movements were careful, a little clumsy. Her bare feet made soft taps against the floor.

 

She let out a small, surprised sound.

 

“Good?” Milk asked, watching her closely.

 

The woman looked at her and slowly nodded, chewing carefully like each bite was a discovery.

 

Milk leaned against the chair, arms crossed, unable to take her eyes off the stranger in front of her.

 

‘This woman… whoever she was…she was something else.’

 

Milk watched the woman devour her breakfast with small, grateful bites like someone tasting real food for the first time in days.

 

She waited until the woman had slowed down, then finally asked, “Where are you from?”

 

The spoon froze mid-air.

 

The woman looked up at her, meeting her gaze again. But she didn’t answer.

 

Milk frowned a little but stayed calm.

 

She tried again. “What’s your name?”

 

Milk tried to do a sign language, she put her hand on her chest, “My name is Milk.”

 

Silence.

 

The woman’s eyes stayed on hers, like she wanted to speak but couldn’t. Like the words existed, but something inside her didn’t know how to let them out.

 

“No name? Nothing?”

 

Still nothing. Just that quiet, steady stare. While the woman watched her every move as if she was learning how to move or speak.

 

Milk leaned back in her seat, watching her with narrowed eyes.

 

“Are you… in trouble?”

 

The woman blinked, almost like the question startled her but she still didn’t respond.

 

Milk sighed, running a hand through her hair.

 

“Okay, mute mystery woman,” she muttered under her breath, half-expecting a reaction.

 

But there was none.

 

Milk couldn’t ignore the strange feeling creeping into her chest—the familiarity of her presence.

 

 

Milk zipped up her small duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her time back in the province was only meant to be a pause, a breath, a break from the chaos. But now, it was time to face the real world again. Her problems in the city weren’t going to fix themselves.

 

She turned around… and there she was.

 

Still there.

 

That woman.

 

Silent as ever, standing just a few steps behind her.

 

Milk sighed. “You’re still here.”

 

“Look,” Milk said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and stepping toward the door, “I don’t know if you can understand me. Or even hear me. But you need to leave. Okay?”

 

She gestured toward the open door.

 

“I already fed you. You’re not my responsibility. I don’t even know who you are.”

 

Still… nothing.

 

The woman didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, eyes fixed on Milk with a quiet, unreadable expression.

 

Frustrated, Milk gently took her by the wrist and led her to the door.

 

“Go home,” she said, more softly now, though even she wasn’t sure if this stranger had a home.

 

The woman didn’t resist. But she didn’t step out either.

 

Instead, she stood by the doorframe, hands folded awkwardly in front of her chest like she didn’t know what to do with them, her head slightly bowed. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her eyes began to shimmer with something unspoken.

 

Sadness.

 

Milk caught sight of her bare feet again.

 

Dirty. Scratched. Wounded.

 

She frowned. “Where are your slippers?”

 

The woman looked down slowly at her own feet.

 

Milk hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. Then she reached back into her bag, pulling out an old, worn-out pair of rubber slippers she used around the house.

 

“Here,” she said, offering them. “They’re not pretty, but it’s better than walking around barefoot.”

 

The woman took them with both hands like they were something sacred.

 

Milk looked at her… really looked, and felt a small pang of empathy in her chest. This woman was clinging to her… for warmth, and safety.

 

Milk sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “You can’t come with me,” she said, softer now.

 

And as she turned back toward the road, she could already hear the quiet shuffle of footsteps behind her.

 

She didn’t need to look back to know that the woman was following her again.

 

Milk reached the bus stop. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped toward the open door, ready to climb aboard.

 

But before she could take that first step, she turned.

 

And there she was again. Still following. Still there.

 

The woman stood a few paces behind her, hands at her sides, watching with those same unwavering eyes. Like a child trailing behind her mother.

 

Milk’s chest tightened with a mix of frustration and helplessness. “I said stop following me,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she meant it to be.

 

The bus driver gave her a side glance, waiting.

 

But before she could turn away, she felt it.

 

A soft hand, reaching out, gently wrapping around her wrist.

 

Milk froze.

 

The woman, barefoot, quiet, unrelenting took Milk’s hand and slowly brought it up to her own chest. Her fingers rested over her heart, eyes never leaving Milk’s.

 

Then, softly and trembling, like it was the first word she'd ever spoken, she said,

 

“L—Love.”

 

Milk’s breath caught in her throat.

 

The woman took Milk’s hand and gently pressed it to Milk’s chest this time.

 

“M—Milk.”

 

She looked up, her eyes warm, and then pressed Milk’s hand back to her own chest.

 

“Love.”

 

She introduced herself rather in a strange way. She mimicked Milk’s gesture earlier at the table on how she introduced herself.

 

Milk blinked, unable to speak. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the sound of the waiting bus. The world seemed to narrow to just this moment. Her, and the woman who finally had a name.

 

Love.

 

Milk’s fingers remained over Love’s heart, not pulling away.

 

The bus let out a sharp honk behind them, snapping her briefly back to reality.

 

Milk stood frozen, her hand still resting over Love’s chest. She felt the warmth beneath her palm. Then gently pulled her hand away.

 

Love’s expression faltered, her lips parting like she might speak again but no words came this time. Her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with something even quieter.

 

Hope.

 

Milk took a shaky step back.

 

“You can’t follow me anymore.” she added

 

Love didn’t argue. She didn’t beg. She just stood there on the dusty road, hands slowly folding back in front of her chest like she was holding herself together.

 

Milk turned. She climbed up and found a seat near the back.

 

And when she looked out the window…

 

Love was still there.

 

Standing exactly where she left her.

 

Still watching.

 

Still waiting.

 

And something ached in Milk’s chest—again.

Chapter 2: Somewhere Across The Shore

The sea was calm that day.

 

Love swam just beneath the surface, her body gliding effortlessly with the rhythm of the waves. The water was her home… gentle, vast, and quiet. Small schools of fish darted by her sides as her fingers brushed through drifting seaweed.

 

She was content.

 

Alone, but content.

 

She closed her eyes, letting the waves of the sea carry her thoughts. The world above hardly mattered. Humans rarely came this far. And when they did, they never stayed.

 

Then she heard it.

 

A voice.

 

Faint at first, muffled by water and distance, but filled with fear.

 

“Help—!”

 

It pierced the water like a thread of lightning, sudden and sharp.

 

Love’s eyes snapped open.

 

Another splash.

 

Then silence.

 

She shot upward without thinking.

 

Breaking through the surface, she spun toward the sound. The waves had started to grow—no longer calm. There, far from the shore, she saw a boat turned sideways, half-submerged.

 

And then— her .

 

A woman, barely afloat. Struggling. Sinking.

 

Her limbs were weak, her movements frantic, her eyes wide with panic before slipping under again.

 

The world narrowed to the sound of her own heartbeat and the shadow of the woman sinking into the sea.

 

Love swam towards her.

 

Down. And Down.

 

Love caught her just before she slipped too far. Their hands met underwater.

 

The woman’s eyes were terrified, almost lifeless.

 

And something struck Love in that moment. A pull. A spark.

 

She didn’t know this woman. She didn’t know her world.

 

But she felt her .

 

Felt the ache in her chest, the desperation in her silence.

 

She gripped her tightly and swam fast and hard, against the pull of the current.

 

When they broke the surface, Milk wasn’t moving.

 

Love held her close, one arm wrapped around her torso, the other keeping them afloat. She looked around and no one in sight. Just the wind, the waves, and the weight of the woman in her arms.

 

She swam, guiding them back toward the shore. She could’ve left her there, could’ve disappeared into the sea as silently as she came.

 

But she stayed and laid Milk gently on the sand, brushing the wet strands of hair from her pale face.

 

They were on the shore, Milk coughing up seawater, lungs burning and rolled to her side, breathing hard, drenched and shaking.

 

And as she looked at her, chest rising faintly, the woman opened her eyes and met hers. Love got lost in her eyes for a moment.

 

“W—who are you?” The woman asked, weakly.

 

Love didn’t speak. She didn’t know how. Mermaids have different way of communicating.

 

The woman had seen her face and probably her tail too, so she had to do what had to be done— clear her memory.

 

Love held Milk’s cheeks and gently lift her head, looking straight into her eyes… she cleared a part of Milk’s memory, the part when she saw her.

 

Then she turned and perched behind the huge rock, waited until someone came to Milk’s rescue.

 

After she was sure someone found Milk, Love vanished into the waves before anyone could see her.

 

 

 

The sea welcomed her back with open arms but it did not feel the same. Not anymore.

 

Love drifted beneath the waves, her body heavy in a way she couldn’t explain. The silence that once soothed her now echoed with something new… a voice. A cry. And that woman.

 

She should have forgotten as she was taught to.

 

It was the rule of their kind—Never interact with a human. Never make contact. Never feel.

 

But she had touched her.

 

Held her.

 

Heard her heartbeat thudding weakly against her own.

 

Love pressed a hand to her chest as she floated just beneath the surface, her eyes turned upward where the light coming from the moon fractured through the water.

 

She didn’t regret it.

 

But the sea had begun to shift.

 

She could feel it.

 

The currents no longer moved gently around her. The reef, once vibrant, pulsed with strange stillness. The others, her kind, especially the old ones, and the silent watchers of the deep—they knew.

 

They were avoiding her because she had crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

 

And what haunted her more than the silence of her kind… was the absence of that woman.

 

She had laid her safely on the shore, watched her chest rise and fall, made sure she lived.

 

Love found herself thinking more about the woman than she should have. Though it wasn’t the first time she had seen a human, this was her first encounter with a human. Most especially, she held her hands… and felt her heart, her warmth.

 

Love never felt something like that before. And it changed her.

 

 

For hours, she tried to shake her from her mind.

 

But Milk stayed.

 

In her thoughts. In her chest.

 

Love drifted through the sea aimlessly, but nothing brought her peace. The reef felt colder. The currents felt hollow. Even the songs of the deep, the ones only her kind could hear, had gone silent.

 

The moment she turned away from Milk at the shore, something inside her had shifted. Like the tide had changed its rhythm just for her.

 

She should have stayed underwater.

 

She should have forgotten.

 

But she couldn’t.

 

So she chose.

 

She turned her back on everything she had ever known.

 

She swam. Harder than she ever had before.

 

The shore grew closer and she hid behind a cluster of rocks where the waves met the land.

 

Now it was she who did not belong.

 

She clung to the rocks for a moment, completely left the water, breathing heavily. The sea clung to her skin like it didn’t want to let go.

 

And then it began.

 

The change.

 

Her fingers curled tightly against stone as her tail shimmered… flickering… twisting… splitting.

 

The pain came in waves. Her legs stretched and reshaped itself into something unfamiliar. Her tail, long and strong, faded into two trembling legs. Her lungs heaved, choking on the dry air. Her throat burned.

 

It had been generations since one of her kind had done this.

 

And she was doing it not for freedom, not for survival—but for a woman .

 

She stayed hidden for a long while, trembling in the shadow of the rocks. The wind touched her skin differently now, chilling, dry, human.

 

And then came the realization…

 

She was naked. Very naked. Because she had nothing, and the only thing she brought with her was a small pouch clinging to a thread wrapped around her waist.

 

Her cheeks flushed with something she’d never felt before—shame and cold.

 

Love curled tighter behind the rocks, wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn’t go back to the sea. Not after what she had done.

 

And she couldn’t go forward either.

 

Not like this.

 

And yet… she would.

 

Because Milk had taken something from her without ever asking for it.

 

 

Slowly, shakily, she stood. Her new legs buckled underneath her, awkward and unsure. She steadied herself on the rock and took her first few steps, each one unsteady, painful, but determined.

 

The dirt felt strange.

 

She kept to the shadows, ducking low, instinctively avoiding the open paths. She didn’t understand the feeling, but she knew enough to hide.

 

Then… she saw it. A line of clothes fluttering in the wind. Hanging on a rope between two wooden poles behind one of the nearby houses.

 

She crept closer.

 

It was an old house… quiet, lights off. Maybe the people inside were asleep. Maybe they weren’t home at all.

 

The clothes swayed gently in the morning breeze. She reached out and touched one. An oversized white t-shirt.

 

She needed to move. She needed to blend in.

 

Although she wasn’t sure how to wear the clothes. She pulled the shirt over her head. It hung loose on her body, nearly down to her thighs. Next she found a pair of worn cotton shorts—large but enough just to cover her bottom parts… and tugged them on clumsily. Her limbs didn’t quite obey her yet, and the act of dressing felt like trying to solve a puzzle with shaking hands.

 

When she was done, she stood barefoot in the yard,

she looked down at herself. She didn’t look like a creature of the sea anymore.

 

She looked like a girl.

 

Lost. Alone.

 

But human.

 

Sort of.

 

 

Love walked barefoot through the town’s edge, where the sea breeze still lingered faintly in the air.

 

She kept walking.

 

Slowly. Silently.

 

Eyes searching every face she passed, every window.

 

But none of them were her.

 

None of them were Milk.

 

Her heart beat with something unfamiliar… restlessness. The same kind she felt when storms rolled in across the sea, warning them to hide. But there was no storm here. Only the growing ache in her chest… and her stomach.

 

A loud growl escaped her belly. She paused, startled by the sound. She clutched her belly instinctively, frowning.

 

She was hungry.

 

In the sea, it was simple—she would swim, chase a school of fish, nibble on sea grapes, snatch shrimp tucked beneath rocks. The ocean never left her empty.

 

But here…

 

Here, there was nothing.

 

Only smells. Strange, rich, delicious smells floating through the air but she didn’t know where they came from. Every house locked. Every food behind walls.

 

And then she saw it.

 

An old house. Quiet. A single window open, curtain fluttering like a silent invitation.

 

She paused. Listened.

 

No voices. No footsteps. No sounds at all.

 

She crept closer. One hand on the sill. Then both feet. She hoisted herself up clumsily, legs still not quite used to the weight of gravity.

 

Inside was dim and dusty. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. There was a kitchen at the back.

 

She moved slowly, opening drawers, sniffing containers, tapping lids.

 

Then finally she found something.

 

Biscuits, a half-eaten bread, and a can of sardines.

 

 

Love’s mouth was still full when the voice sliced through the silence behind her.

 

“Who are you?!”

 

She froze.

 

Cracker crumbs scattered from her hands. Her body stiffened like a squirrel caught red-handed. Slowly, she turned her head, fearing who might be standing there.

 

But Love was surprised when she saw the woman behind her… the one she has been looking for.

 

 

‘Milk.’

 

‘Her name is Milk.’

 

 

Love’s inner voice said. And only their kind can hear those inner voices.

 

Her heart raced.

 

Milk fed her, talked to her, and gave her something to wear on her feet. And Love was grateful even though she couldn’t say it just yet.

 

Just when Love thought their encounter would last, Milk needed to leave, and she couldn’t bring Love with her.

 

Love felt an extreme sadness when she saw Milk boarded the bus and left her standing alone.

 

Their eyes met.

 

Just for a breath.

 

Just when Milk decided to turn her gaze away and closed her eyes to sleep… Love had another idea.

 

Her heart pounded not with sadness this time, but with the wild courage of someone who had nothing left to lose.

 

She took few steps. Hurried and leapt up the bus steps. And just a few rows ahead, near the window, her hair tucked behind her ear, head leaning slightly against the glass, sleeping—Milk.

 

Milk hadn’t noticed her.

 

Love took her seat near the bus door, and where her eyes can still see Milk. A safe and quiet distance.

 

She had no idea where this bus would take them. What would happen next. Or what kind of life lay ahead.

 

But she had followed her. The same road. With her.

 

 

 

Thirty minutes into the road, the sky outside the window had dimmed into pale gray, and the air inside the bus was thick with quiet.

 

Passengers swayed with every curve of the road, half-asleep or lost in their own thoughts.

 

But Love couldn’t look away from her.

 

Milk, already awake, sat quietly, earbuds in, staring at the fading light. She hadn’t turned around. Hadn’t felt the weight of eyes on her.

 

Then—

 

The conductor began moving down the aisle. Issuing tickets, collecting coins and folded bills.

 

His pouch jingled with change as he worked his way from the front to the rear, mumbling prices, nodding, scribbling numbers on slips of paper.

 

Love watched him come closer, her hands tightening around the edge of her seat.

 

She had nothing. No understanding of how any of this worked.

 

Only one thing she knew… Wherever Milk goes, she goes.

 

The conductor stopped in front of her seat, eyebrows already raised as he looked at her disheveled clothes.

 

“Where to?” he asked, expectant.

 

Love stared.

 

He tried again, tapping his pen against the pad. “Where are you headed?”

 

She blinked. Swallowed.

 

Her eyes flickered to Milk, still unaware.

 

Love turned back to him.

 

Softly, with her hand pressed against her chest, she whispered the only truth she knew.

 

“Milk.”

 

The conductor blinked. “What?”

 

“Milk,” she said again.

 

“You don’t have money, do you?”

 

“If you can’t pay, you need to leave.” The conductor pulled her wrist—hard. Love winced at the pain, didn’t know what to do. Passengers turned their heads. Eyes narrowed. Murmurs began to spread.

 

Love could barely process the noise, the heat, the way her chest felt like it was being crushed. She didn’t understand everything the man said.

 

“Mmg—gh!” She didn’t fight back, not really but when the conductor yanked her again, her body reacted. Reflexively. A sharp twist of her wrist and she pulled away with ease, not realizing how much stronger she was than him.

 

The conductor stumbled backward slightly.

 

“Stop the bus!” he shouted.

 

The driver obeyed, brakes screeching as the vehicle jerked to a halt.

 

Love wavered on her feet. Her knees buckled slightly. The man was about to yank her again when—

 

“Hey, hey! What are you doing?”

 

Love turned slowly.

 

There she was… coming down the aisle, eyes wide, brows furrowed, voice sharp with disbelief.

 

The conductor raised his hands. “She doesn’t have a fare. I can’t let her stay. We’re not running charity.”

 

Milk stepped between them without hesitation, placing herself between Love and the conductor. Her tone dropped, low and cold now. “You don’t need to grab her like that.”

 

“She’s not a kid, miss. She knows what she’s doing. If she can’t pay, she needs to get off.”

 

Milk turned to Love.

 

Love didn’t speak.

 

She just looked at her, eyes wide, heart pounding.

 

And in a quiet whisper, barely audible—

 

“…Milk.”

 

Milk’s heart jumped and she swallowed thickly.

 

Love was looking at her like she was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

 

Milk let out a breath. “It’s fine. I’ll pay for her.”

 

The conductor raised a brow. “You know her?”

 

Milk hesitated. She didn’t know how to explain it. How could she?

 

Milk didn’t answer.

 

The conductor sighed and moved on, grumbling under his breath.

 

She turned to Love, who was staring at her with something that looked a little like awe.

 

“…Did you follow me?” Milk said softly, almost to herself.

 

Love didn’t speak. Just looked at her like she was looking at something sacred.

 

“…Why?” Milk whispered.

 

No answer.

 

Milk looked at her for a long moment, then finally sighed.

 

“Come on,” she muttered, tugging her gently at the backseat. “Sit down before you get us both kicked out.”

 

Love obeyed without hesitation, settling beside her. And she smiled—widely. Because she’s with Milk again.

 

 

 

Milk stared at her, trying to make sense of it all.

 

“Look, Miss—Love, Love, right?” she asked, her voice low but edged with confusion. “Where are you going?”

 

Love turned to her with wide, earnest eyes.

 

“…Milk,” she said softly, like it was the only word she’d ever needed to know.

 

Milk sighed, trying not to let the strange ache in her chest get to her. “No, no.”

 

Love tilted her head, still staring. Her expression didn’t change, just pure innocence.

 

Milk rubbed her temple. “Okay. Seriously. Where do you live? Your home?”

 

At that, Love’s gaze dropped.

 

Her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. She understood the question clearly, but something in her shifted. Her breath caught.

 

And Milk saw it.

 

The silence wasn’t from confusion. It was from not knowing how to answer.

 

“Hey…” Milk softened her tone. “You don’t have a place to go, do you?”

 

Love didn’t look up. She just gently shook her head.

 

It made her chest ache.

 

Here was this girl, this strange, strange girl, who had appeared at her door like some barefoot storm, followed her across towns, boarded a bus without a cent, and now sat beside her with nothing but her name and a silence that said too much.

 

“…You left,” Milk said quietly, half to herself. “You left wherever you came from… just to follow me?”

 

Love looked at her then… nodded. No hesitation.

 

Milk blinked, looking out the window, heart thudding.

 

“What am I supposed to do with you…” she whispered.

 

Love didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

 

 

 

She had not stopped staring out the window.

 

The city lights blinked like stars fallen to the ground. Neon signs, blinking traffic, glowing buildings, every flicker seemed to catch her breath.

 

Love pressed her hand against the glass once, lightly, like trying to touch the strange world moving around her.

 

Milk watched her from the corner of her eye.

 

She didn’t speak. Not for the rest of the ride.

 

Because… what could she say?

 

She went back to that small, sleepy town where she used to live to get away from everything. To breathe again. To think. To be alone.

 

And now here she was.

 

Back in the city.

 

With her.

 

A girl who didn’t talk much. Didn’t seem to know the basics. Who looked around like a child lost in a place she had never belonged to.

 

Milk sighed and rubbed her eyes. ‘ What the hell am I supposed to do with you?’

 

When the bus pulled to a stop, the engine let out a hiss and the doors creaked open. Milk stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

 

But Love didn’t move. She was still staring, wide-eyed at the glowing signs.

 

“…Come on,” Milk muttered, nudging her gently.

 

Love blinked, then looked up at her. She stood without a word, following her down the narrow aisle.

 

Outside, the city buzzed, people walking fast, neon lights flickering on convenience stores, street vendors shouting, smoke curling from food stalls. The noise hit Love all at once.

 

She froze, staring up at a building like it might fall over her.

 

Milk noticed and paused. “Hey,” she said, quieter now.

 

Love stepped closer, close enough for their arms to brush.

 

Milk took a shaky breath because she couldn’t just leave her here. Not like this.

 

Not when she clearly had nowhere else to go. Not when she looked like even the noise of a closing door might send her running back to whatever strange place she came from.

 

“Alright,” Milk muttered to herself. “I guess you’re coming with me.”

 

Love’s head turned.

 

Milk glanced at her.

 

“Just… for tonight, okay? I’m not adopting you or anything,” she added quickly, more for herself than for Love.

 

Love didn’t nod.

 

Didn’t smile.

 

She just followed.

 

Silently.

 

Like she belonged there. With Milk.

 

 

 

Milk’s apartment wasn’t anything special—Small, but neat and tidy.

 

She turned the key and pushed the door open, dropping her bag with a sigh.

 

Love stood at the threshold, unmoving. Her eyes were wide again, darting from the light switch to the clock ticking softly on the wall to the flickering lamp by the window.

 

She didn’t step inside.

 

She just looked.

 

“…You can come in,” Milk said, voice quieter now that they were off the street.

 

Love blinked at her, then slowly… almost shyly… stepped forward. Her bare feet made no sound on the tile. She walked like the floor might melt beneath her.

 

Milk watched her, still half in disbelief that this was really happening.

 

This girl, this stranger, who barely spoke, who didn’t know how to ride a bus, who seemed overwhelmed by ceiling fans and honking cars—was now inside her apartment.

 

Love paused near the kitchen, staring at the electric stove like it was some kind of machine from another world.

 

“…Have you really never been in a place like this before?” Milk asked, gently kicking off her shoes.

 

Love didn’t answer.

 

She just touched the light switch on the wall, flicking it on… then off… then on again. Her lips parted, eyes round in wonder.

 

Milk stared at her, speechless.

 

She wasn’t just naive or innocent.

 

She was… new.

 

Like the world was something she was seeing for the very first time.

 

“Okay,” Milk sighed, brushing her hand through her hair. “You’re not from around here. Got it.”

 

Love wandered toward the couch, then crouched beside it instead of sitting. She ran her fingers along the fabric, feeling the texture like it was something sacred.

 

Love turned to her, silent as ever.

 

Milk walked to the kitchen, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “You thirsty?”

 

Love accepted it like it was a gift. She held the glass delicately with both hands, stared at the water for a long second, then took a sip, cautious.

 

Milk watched her, leaning against the counter.

 

“Just for tonight,” she said again, trying to convince herself.

 

 

 

Dinner turned out to be a pack of instant noodles.

 

It wasn’t fancy, but after the long ride and the chaos of the day, Milk didn’t have the energy to cook anything else. She cracked the egg in while the noodle soup simmered, added a few chopped veggies from the fridge, then poured it all into two bowls.

 

She glanced behind her every few minutes.

 

Love hadn’t moved from the living room.

 

She was still crouched beside the couch, watching the flickering lights outside the window like they were stars. Her chin rested on her knees. The glass of water she was given earlier was now empty, cradled gently in her hands like it was something precious.

 

‘She really doesn’t know anything ,’ Milk thought.

 

Not in a judgmental way. Just… realization. The girl didn’t seem scared. Just curious. Like someone who was trying so hard to understand a world she didn’t belong to.

 

Milk sat down at the table in front of her and handed her a spoon and fork. “It’s hot, so take it slow.”

 

Love leaned over the bowl, sniffed the rising steam, and blinked. Her eyes lit up.

 

She picked up the spoon like she had seen Milk do, scooped up a tangled bundle of noodles, and without hesitation stuffed it into her mouth.

 

A beat of silence. Then—

 

“Mm-MMMgh!” Love’s eyes shot wide open. Her lips parted, tongue darting out in pure betrayal.

 

She opened her mouth wildly with both hands, looking around in distress like she had swallowed fire.

 

Milk stared, then let out a surprised laugh. “I said it was hot!”

 

Love turned to her with watery eyes, cheeks puffed like she was holding back tears. She stuck her tongue out again and let out a whimper. “M-mgh…!”

 

“Oh my god,” Milk giggled, rushing into the kitchen. “Here, here, water!”

 

She handed her a glass.

 

Love took it and chugged like her life depended on it. Which, in her mind, it probably did.

 

Milk watched as the girl clutched the now-empty glass with both hands, chest heaving from the battle with noodle heat.

 

“You okay?” Milk asked, still trying to suppress a laugh.

 

Love blinked, nodded once, then pouted at the bowl like it had betrayed her.

 

Milk assured, still grinning. “It just needs to cool down.”

 

Love looked back at her with a frown, small, dramatic, and mildly offended. Like Milk could’ve warned her in a different language.

 

A long moment passed before Love tried again. This time blowing carefully on the spoonful, mimicking the way Milk did it.

 

She took a cautious bite.

 

Then paused.

 

Then smiled.

 

Really smiled. A genuine one.

 

And it made Milk’s heart do something weird.

 

Milk shook her head and muttered, “You’re like a baby or something.”

 

Love didn’t understand what she said but she giggled anyway.

 

 

 

After dinner, the apartment was filled with the scent of instant noodles lingering in the air. Milk showed Love the bathroom, explaining quickly how the shower worked.

 

Milk handed Love a towel and gestured toward the bathroom. “Shower’s all yours. Don’t be too long.”

 

Love didn’t respond, only offered a small nod and disappeared behind the door. Hesitant at first when she noticed the wet floor tiles.

 

She walked slowly, and gently avoiding the wet area of the floor until she reached inside and closed the doord quietly.

 

The water turned on.

 

And Love stood there for a moment, staring at the stream pouring from the showerhead.

 

It wasn’t the sea, but water was water.

 

She stepped into it, and instantly, warmth surrounded her. It welcomed her like home.

 

Then it happened like instinct.

 

Her legs shimmered, skin glowing faintly under the light as soft scales emerged. Her feet vanished, replaced by a long, silken tail that rippled like pink sapphire against the floor.

 

She sank slowly to the floor, curling into the narrow space, her tail twitching slightly as it adjusted to the pressure.

 

Love let out a soft sigh—part relief, part ache.

 

For a few moments, she was herself again. The real her.

 

Not the quiet girl stumbling through the human world… but what she had always been.

 

But as the water cooled and time ticked on, the fear returned.

 

Too long. Too much.

 

“You okay there?” Milk asked with a soft knock on the door.

 

Love panicked. She turned the faucet off and reached for the towel, water dripping from her skin in slow trails. Her breathing slowed as she wrapped the fabric tightly around herself, grounding her.

 

By the time she stepped out and wrapped the towel around herself, the scales were gone. Her feet had returned, wobbly, uncertain, but human again. She made sure to step on the bathroom rug to keep her legs dry.

 

Milk passed her on the way in, holding clean clothes and her phone.

 

“You good?” she asked.

 

Love nodded, damp hair dripping down her shoulders, eyes lowered.

 

“Your clothes on the couch. You can change in my room.” Milk said pointing to the door towards her room.

 

She slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

 

The silence returned, save for the soft sound of running water again.

 

Love just need to keep her legs dry to avoid being seen. She stood barefoot near the couch, listening. The shower. The steam. The warmth.

 

She brushed her fingers through her wet hair and quietly walked to the window, peeking out into the dark city… already missing the sound of waves.

 

Inside the bathroom, Milk hummed under her breath, standing under the stream. She didn’t know that only minutes earlier, a mermaid had stood in the exact same spot.

 

 

 

After her shower, Milk stepped out of the bathroom with damp hair and a towel slung around her shoulders.

 

Love was standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, still wearing the oversized shirt Milk had given her earlier. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders, and her bare feet pressed gently against the rug.

 

Milk sighed, rubbing the towel over her head. “Alright,” she mumbled, “you can take the couch.”

 

Love blinked.

 

Milk nodded toward it and began pulling pillows and blankets from her room. She dropped the blanket over the couch, fluffing it, and handed Love a pillow. “Here.”

 

Love took it slowly, cradling it in both arms like it was fragile.

 

Milk watched her for a moment still uncertain about what she was doing. Taking in a stranger. Someone who didn’t speak much. Someone who followed her from a town back to the city. Someone whose eyes always looked like they were searching for something.

 

“Will you be comfortable here?” Milk asked.

 

Love looked up at her and gave a small nod.

 

Milk hesitated. “Can you… really understand me?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Do you have anywhere else to go?”

 

This time, Love looked down.

 

Silence.

 

Milk exhaled through her nose and rubbed her temple. “Fine. You stay here. But just for tonight.”

 

She turned toward her bedroom, pausing before flicking off the main light.

 

As she stepped away, Love gently laid the pillow down and curled up on the couch, tucking the blanket close to her chest. Her eyes stayed open a while longer, watching the spot where Milk had stood.

 

A soft flicker of a smile ghosted over her lips.

 

This was enough for her.

 

 

 

Milk lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the faint glow of city lights filtering through her window curtain.

 

She turned over for what felt like the tenth time, punching her pillow into shape, but no matter how she curled or stretched or covered her eyes, sleep wouldn’t come.

 

Her body was tired, sure, but her mind kept spinning.

 

Too many questions. Too much weirdness.

 

Who even was that girl?

 

Why did she follow me?

 

Why didn’t I just leave her behind like I planned?

 

She sighed, dragging the blanket over her shoulder. The room felt too quiet… but maybe it wasn’t the quiet that unsettled her but the fact that someone else was in the apartment. A stranger. A woman she didn’t know. A woman who barely spoke. Who acted like she didn’t know how the world worked.

 

Still…

 

There was something soft about her. Something harmless. Not like someone to be afraid of. More like someone lost. Someone learning how to breathe on land.

 

Milk turned again, staring at the faint crack of light beneath the door.

 

Love , she thought. That’s her name.

 

Love, who followed her all the way to the city.

 

Love, who smiled after burning her tongue on noodles.

 

Love, who looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

 

Milk rubbed her eyes and groaned softly. “What the hell is wrong with me…”

 

She threw an arm over her face and sighed into the crook of her elbow.

 

Somewhere beyond the wall, she could hear the couch creak softly as someone shifted under the blanket.

 

Milk knew she had to do something because she couldn’t let a stranger live with her… but that was another problem for tomorrow, and she had to deal with it immediately.

 

But one thing she couldn’t ignore was that for the first time ever again… she didn’t feel entirely alone.

Chapter 3: A Strange New Home

Milk blinked against the sunlight streaming into her room. She stretched, groggy and sore from a restless night, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

 

Then it hit her— Love .

 

She got out of bed, quietly opened her door, and peeked into the living room.

 

There she was, still asleep on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket. Her hair was a mess, her mouth slightly open, and she was hugging the pillow like it was her long-lost best friend.

 

Milk snorted.

 

She made her way to the kitchen, tying her hair up messily as she opened the fridge. A couple of hotdogs and meat loafs. Good enough.

 

She started cooking, the gentle sizzle filling the quiet apartment. Just as she reached over for the meat loaf, she suddenly felt something behind her—a breeze, or maybe just a presence.

 

“AAHH!!” she yelped, nearly throwing the spatula. “When did you get here?!”

 

Love was right behind her. Standing still. Staring straight at the food.

 

Milk clutched her chest. “You can’t keep sneaking up on me like that, oh my god.”

 

Love didn’t say anything. She was already sniffing the air, eyes following the pan like it was the most important thing in the room.

 

Milk groaned. “You were just sleeping a minute ago!”

 

Love tilted her head, then pointed at the hotdogs, her expression hopeful.

 

Milk narrowed her eyes. “You’re obsessed with food, aren’t you?”

 

Love smiled.

 

Milk sighed. “Fine. Sit down. Just… no more jump scares, please.”

 

Love made her way to the small table and sat, hands rested on the table, watching Milk cook like it was some kind of performance.

 

“You better not burn your tongue again,” Milk muttered, scooping the food onto plates.

 

Love perked up, already leaning forward.

 

Milk slid the plate in front of her and sat across the table. “You eat like a stray cat that just found a buffet.”

 

Love didn’t understand the words, but she grinned anyway, digging in happily.

 

Milk shook her head, chewing her food slowly as she watched her.

 

She didn’t know who Love was, or where she came from. But she’ll try her best to help her come home or find someone related to her.

 

 

 

“You found her where?” Namtan repeated, eyes squinting as she took another sip of her steaming coffee. She was doing her best to stay calm, but the curiosity was clearly eating at her.

 

Milk dropped by her best friend Namtan’s cafe to ask for a bit of help.

 

Milk sighed, slouching a little in her seat. “I didn’t find her, okay? She found me. I went home to the province for a few days to clear my head, and the next thing I know—she’s just… there. Following me. Like a puppy.”

 

Namtan slowly peeked at Love, who was seated beside Milk, quietly watching the swirl of whipped cream on her untouched drink with fascination, like it was magic.

 

“And now she’s living with you?” Namtan raised a brow, lips twitching.

 

Milk groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s not like I adopted her. She just—won’t leave. I even told her to leave me alone, but she just wouldn’t.”

 

“So you brought her back to the city.”

 

“She didn’t give me a choice!”

 

Namtan stared at her, deadpan. “You know how that sounds, right?”

 

Milk leaned in, whispering harshly, “I know it sounds insane, okay? She’s kind of clueless, honestly. She doesn’t talk much, she doesn’t seem to know how anything works.”

 

Namtan glanced again at Love, who had now poked her finger into the whipped cream, licked it, and looked genuinely amazed.

 

“…She licked the whipped cream like she’s never had sugar before,” Namtan murmured.

 

Milk leaned back in her seat. “She probably hasn’t.”

 

Namtan turned to her. “Where do you think she came from?”

 

Milk exhaled. “I have no idea. When I first saw her, she had no slippers, was soaking wet, and… okay, don’t laugh—”

 

Namtan leaned in dramatically. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna laugh.”

 

Milk sighed.

 

“Okay okay sorry. Tell me what really happened back there?”

 

“I did something really dumb, alright? And no—it’s not what you’re thinking. I rowed myself out into the middle of the sea, nearly drowned, blacked out, and when I came to… I couldn’t remember a thing. Then suddenly the next morning, she appears—ta-da.”

 

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe she saved you?”

 

Milk froze for a second and—

 

“No. It couldn’t be… I mean look at her,” Milk murmured.

 

They both looked at Love. She was now holding the spoon upside down and watching the cream slide off it.

 

Namtan leaned closer and whispered, “Well, she’s cute… but weird.”

 

Milk groaned. “You’re not helping.”

 

“I am helping. I’m listening.”

 

Milk gave her a look.

 

Namtan grinned and nudged her. “Okay, fine. I’ll help you figure out where she belongs. But until then... you’re basically living with a cute, weird stranger.”

 

Milk slumped forward onto the table. “Why is this my life?”

 

Love looked up at the two of them, whipped cream on her upper lip, and smiled.

 

Namtan snorted into her coffee. “Yep. Definitely weird.”

 

 

Milk’s phone started to vibrate.

 

She glanced at the screen and stood up with a sigh. “It’s from the company I applied for the other day. I have to take this. I'll be right back.”

 

Namtan gave her a thumbs up. “Go. I’ll babysit.”

 

Milk shot her a look but didn’t argue. She walked toward the cafe door, already answering the call.

 

As soon as she was out of earshot, Namtan leaned in across the table, propping her chin in her hand as she studied Love with a thoughtful squint.

 

Love blinked back, mid-sip of her drink, whipped cream clinging to the tip of her nose.

 

“You,” Namtan said, pointing at her. “Are very confusing.”

 

Love tilted her head, the most consistent response she’d given all day.

 

“You don’t talk much, you look like you’ve never been inside a cafe before, and I’m about 75% sure you’ve never had tasted whipped cream before.”

 

Love looked down at her drink, then grinned softly.

 

Namtan narrowed her eyes, but not in a mean way—more like a curious. “Who are you really?”

 

Love just blinked again.

 

Namtan sighed dramatically. “No offense, you’re adorable. But if you’re an assassin trying to harm my friend I will drag you back to wherever you came from.”

 

Love nodded, like she understood every word. Then she looked toward the door, where Milk stood outside still on the phone, and her eyes softened instantly.

 

It was a look Namtan recognized.

 

“Oh.” she murmured, eyebrows lifting.

 

Love’s gaze didn’t leave Milk.

 

“You like her,” Namtan said slowly.

 

Love didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

 

Her face already said everything.

 

Namtan leaned back, lips twitching into a knowing smile. “Well. This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

 

Just then, Milk came back in, looking stressed but relieved. “They want me to come for interview.”

 

“That’s good,” Namtan said, cool as ever. “Love and I were just bonding.”

 

Milk raised a brow. “You two don’t even speak the same language.”

 

Namtan smirked. “Sometimes it’s not about words.”

 

Love glanced at Milk, then back at her drink, cheeks faintly pink.

 

Milk sat back down, “What do I do? I need to go for interview this morning.”

 

“You can leave her with me for a while till you get back.”

 

Milk looked at Namtan, “Are you sure?”

 

She looked over at Love, who was now trying to blow bubbles into her drink with the straw, completely unaware they were talking about her.

 

“Leave her here. Just for a while, until your interview’s done. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

 

“I got this,” Namtan said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Go ace that interview. I’ll keep her entertained.”

 

Milk glanced at Love again, who was now squinting at a wall like it had offended her.

 

“…Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks, Namtan. Seriously.”

 

Namtan shrugged, but her smile was warm. “Anytime.”

 

Milk turned to Love. “Hey. I have to go for a while, alright? Just stay here with Namtan. She’ll look after you.”

 

Love looked at her, eyes a little wide, like she didn’t want her to leave.

 

Milk hesitated, then gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back.”

 

Love still didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded.

 

With one last glance at the two of them, Milk grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

 

As it closed behind her, Namtan leaned back in her seat, looking at Love with a mischievous grin.

 

“Alright, whipped cream girl. Let’s get to know each other.”

 

Love blinked.

 

She smiled—small, but real.

 

 

 

The morning rush had started to pick up. Namtan wiped down the counter, chatting casually with Love, who sat at the far end of the bar, curiously watching the espresso machine hiss and sputter.

 

Love flinched slightly every time it made a loud noise, and Namtan laughed under her breath. “It’s not gonna bite, relax.”

 

That’s when the cafe door jingled open.

 

“Baby!” a familiar voice called.

 

Namtan turned, and smiled.

 

“Film—hey baby,” she said.

 

Her girlfriend stood just inside the cafe, her expression already souring as her eyes darted to Love, who was now blinking at her curiously.

 

Film’s brows furrowed. “Who's that?”

 

Namtan quickly stepped out from behind the counter. “Wait—wait, it’s not what you think.”

 

Film crossed her arms, tone flat. “Oh, it never is.”

 

“She’s not—this isn’t—she’s just staying here for a bit, okay? She's my friend’s… friend.”

 

“That’s a lot of vague words, Namtan.”

 

Love looked between the two women, confused.

 

“Film,” Namtan said softly, trying to stay calm. “She’s Milk’s.”

 

Love suddenly perked up at the sound of Milk’s name and spoke, “Milk.”

 

Film blinked.

 

Namtan said, hands up. “I swear.”

 

Film looked Love up and down, wearing oversized clothes—Milk’s clothes…

 

Love gave Film a big, innocent smile.

 

Film blinked again, then looked at Namtan. “She’s weird.”

 

“Yes, kind of.” Namtan said.

 

Film narrowed her eyes but finally let out a breath, her shoulders dropping just a little. “You better not be lying to me.”

 

Namtan stepped closer and pecked her cheek. “I’m not. Come on, babe.”

 

Film glanced again at Love.

 

Namtan laughed. “You want coffee?”

 

Film nodded. “A strong one.”

 

As Namtan moved behind the counter to prep another round of drinks, Film cautiously approached Love, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle no one asked her to solve.

 

“So… you’re Milk’s girlfriend?” she asked, tone suspicious.

 

Love blinked at her, face blank for a moment. Then she gave a wide, innocent smile. “Milk.”

 

Film took a slow step back, eyebrows raised. “Right… okay then.”

 

Behind the espresso machine, Namtan caught the whole exchange and couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

“Milk’s got herself a girlfriend already, huh?” Film muttered. “Where even is she?”

 

“She had an interview this morning,” Namtan replied casually. “I volunteered to keep an eye on Love while she’s out. Oh and that’s her name, by the way. Love.”

 

She motioned between them. “Love, this is my girlfriend, Film. Film meet Love.”

 

“Hey,” Film said, sticking out her hand in a friendly gesture. “Nice to meet y—”

 

Love just stared at it.

 

She tilted her head like a confused puppy, unsure what to do with the outstretched fingers. Then, slowly, she leaned in and… sniffed it.

 

Film blinked. “Did she just—?”

 

“Yep,” Namtan said, pouring milk into a cup without even looking. “She sniffed you.”

 

Love, still studying Film’s hand, lightly touched it with her fingertips hen gave another soft smile.

 

Film pulled her hand back slowly, eyebrows halfway to her hairline. “She’s… different.”

 

“Yeah she is,” Namtan said with a light laugh.

 

Love, now distracted by the steam coming off a nearby mug, reached toward it and then recoiled quickly when it burned her fingertip. She pouted at the mug like it had personally betrayed her.

 

“Seriously, where did Milk meet this girl?” Film asked in a whisper, leaning against the counter.

 

Namtan lowered her voice too. “Long story short? Milk went back to their province. She almost drowned. Woke up on the shore. No memory of who saved her. Then boom—this girl shows up the next morning.”

 

Film looked back at Love, who’s now busy watching the fish in the aquarium.

 

“…You think she’s dangerous?”

 

Namtan shook her head. “Nope. Just clueless. Like, a ‘baby starting to make sense of the world’ level clueless.”

 

Film let out a breath. “She’s cute, though.”

 

“See?” Namtan grinned. “You’re warming up to her already.”

 

Love looked over and gave her the gentlest smile, unaware they were even talking about her.

 

And for the first time, Film’s expression softened.

 

 

 

The cafe door chimed as Milk stepped inside, back from her job interview, brushing windblown hair from her face and flashing a tired but triumphant smile. “Hey! I got the job!”

 

Namtan perked up from behind the counter. “WHAT? That’s amazing, Milk!” She beamed. “Told you you'd nail it!”

 

Milk grinned and looked around. “So… how’s babysitting?”

 

Namtan gave her a thumbs up without looking. “She’s been quiet! Lurking, staring at coffee beans, poked the espresso machine like it owed her money… but all in all—pretty calm.” She turned to the aquarium. “Right, Love?—”

 

She froze.

 

Then shrieked.

 

“WHAT THE FCK?!—NO, NO, NOOO! OH MY GOD, BUBBLES!!!”

 

Milk’s eyes widened as she turned and saw Love standing by the fish tank, her sleeves dripping wet. Her hair was slightly soaked, and her mouth was… chewing.

 

Love turned slowly at the sound of screaming.

 

Still chewing.

 

She blinked at them, wide-eyed and calm.

 

Milk walked up slowly. “Please tell me that’s not…”

 

Film peeked over her coffee. “Oh my god. She’s eating something. She’s actually chewing.”

 

Namtan dropped to her knees by the aquarium. “My fish! My beautiful, innocent little fish! WHERE ARE THEY?!”

 

Milk grabbed Love by the shoulders and gently pulled her back. “Did you just… eat her pet fish?!”

 

Love blinked, then raised her finger and pointed… to her mouth.

 

Milk gasped. “OH MY GOD YOU DID.”

 

Love gave a slow, proud nod. No shame. Just vibes.

 

Namtan looked like she was about to cry. “Bubbles, Buttercup, and Blossom! You MONSTER! Blossom followed my finger every morning!”

 

Love tilted her head, a little confused at the commotion.

 

She burped softly.

 

Milk cringed, “Oh my god.”

 

Love looked around, completely oblivious to the emotional destruction she had just caused, then reached for a half-finished drink on the table and started sipping like nothing happened.

 

“Hungry.” One word. That’s what Love said.

 

“We just ate a while ago!!” Namtan countered.

 

Milk turned to her best friend. “I swear I only left her for two hours.”

 

“Seriously, Milk. Where did you find her?” Film was laughing while her hand on her tummy.

 

“Milk, girlfriend.” Love suddenly said while pointing to herself.

 

“What? No—Namtan what have you been teaching her?!” Milk asked her best friend. And Namtan couldn’t keep her laugh to herself.

 

“It’s not me!”

 

“Sorry. My fault.” Film grinned while raising her hand.

 

 

 

Later that afternoon, after they had settled from the… fish incident, Milk sat across from Love at one of the tables.

 

Love, meanwhile, was happily munching a croissant Film gave her out of pure survival instinct… to keep her from eating random things again.

 

Milk exhaled deeply. “Okay, I can’t do this.”

 

Namtan glanced over. “What now?”

 

Milk leaned closer to Namtan and Film, lowering her voice. “I can’t keep her. She’s a stranger, and I have a job starting in two days. What am I supposed to do? Lock her in my apartment with crackers and pray she doesn’t eat my soap?”

 

Love looked up at her, blinking innocently, then offered Milk the last bite like a peace offering.

 

Milk groaned. “No, you eat it.”

 

Love tilted her head.

 

Milk looked her in the eyes and said gently but firmly, “I have to bring you to the police. They can help. Maybe they’ll find your relatives or someone who knows you.”

 

Love just stared at her.

 

“I know you don’t understand much, but I can’t have you staying with me,” Milk added, softer now. “You can’t just follow me around forever.”

 

Love blinked once, then slowly lowered the last bite of croissant, her hands resting quietly in her lap.

 

“I have to work, Love,” Milk said, trying to keep her voice calm. “And I don’t even know who you are, where you came from… you don’t even speak. And you’re—you’re different.”

 

“I mean,” Film chimed in, not looking up from her phone, “the girl did inhale three raw fish.”

 

“Not helping, Film!” Milk snapped.

 

Love’s expression was soft and unreadable.

 

Something in Milk’s chest hit.

 

She sighed.

 

“…We’ll go to the station tomorrow, okay?”

 

Love didn’t respond. But she gave a tiny nod.

 

Milk turned to Namtan and whispered, “Why do I feel like I’m kicking someone out of my place?”

 

“You kind of did,” Namtan whispered back.

 

Milk sighed, guilt slowly creeping in.

 

 

 

The next morning came too fast.

 

Milk had barely slept. A mix of nerves, guilt, and dread keeping her up. Love, on the other hand, had slept like a baby… sprawled out on the couch, clutching the pillow like it was a life raft.

 

Now, they stood side by side in front of the police station.

 

Love was wearing Milk’s oversized hoodie and jeans that clearly didn’t fit quite right, but it was the best she could do. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she looked… well, still lost.

 

Milk rubbed her temples. “Okay. They’ll probably take your photo, ask some questions, maybe find your family.”

 

Love blinked at her.

 

Milk opened the door.

 

Inside, the station smelled like floor polish and too much coffee. An officer behind the desk looked up at them, mid-sip of his lukewarm cup.

 

“Hi,” Milk started, guiding Love gently forward. “I’m here to report a missing person. Or maybe… a found person?”

 

The officer set down his mug. “Found person?”

 

“Yes. I… found her. Or she found me. She just showed up one day. She doesn’t talk. Doesn’t know where she’s from. I think she might be lost and can’t remember anything.”

 

The officer looked at Love. She was staring at a poster on the wall.

 

“Does she have ID?” he asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Name?”

 

“…She says her name is Love.”

 

Love turned toward the officer and pointed to herself, softly tapping her chest. “Love.”

 

It was the only word she seemed to say confidently.

 

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Sit tight.”

 

They were told to wait.

 

Thirty minutes passed.

 

Love tapped the metal chair next to her like it was fascinating. At one point, she tried to take a pen from the front desk when no one was looking. Milk gently pulled her hand away.

 

“Sit still.”

 

Finally, another officer—a woman, came out with a clipboard.

 

“We ran her through the database. No matches in any recent missing persons reports. No ID. Nothing. She’s not in the system at all.”

 

Milk frowned. “So what do I do now?”

 

“Well…” The officer scratched her head. “Technically, she’s not breaking any laws, and she’s not in danger. But if she doesn’t have a place to go, we can take her to Social Services.“

 

Milk tightened her grip on the paper the officer gave her.

 

Department of Social Services , just a few blocks away.

 

She looked at Love beside her, who was now holding a chocolate bar the kind officer gave her, turning it over in her fingers like it was a glowing gem. She hadn’t even tried to eat it yet.

 

Milk forced a smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

 

The building was dull and sterile, filled with tired faces. Milk explained the situation again, second time that day, while Love just sat beside her in the waiting area, still not speaking, still lost.

 

Eventually, a staff member approached. A woman in her forties with kind eyes and a clipboard. “You did the right thing bringing her here. We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

 

Milk nodded, slowly.

 

Love stood when she saw Milk stand.

 

Milk turned to her, offering an awkward smile. “They’ll help you, okay? They’ll… find where you belong.”

 

Love didn’t move. She just stared at her, like she didn’t understand what was happening. Like Milk had just told her she’d never see her again.

 

The social worker gently touched Love’s arm. “It’s alright. Come with me, sweetie.”

 

Love’s eyes didn’t leave Milk.

 

Even as she was led away.

 

Even as she disappeared through the white double doors.

 

And even though Milk walked out of the building and tried to tell herself she’d done the responsible thing—

 

It didn’t feel that way.

 

 

 

Three hours later…

 

Milk sat on her couch, staring at the takeout she ordered and couldn’t bring herself to eat.

 

Her apartment felt cold. Empty. Like something small but significant was missing.

 

She kept thinking of the look on Love’s face. That blank, wide stare with so many things behind it that couldn’t be spoken.

 

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the couch where Love slept. Or maybe it was the fact that Love had followed her all the way from the province with no plan, no shoes, no words—just an invisible tether to Milk that now felt… strangely mutual.

 

Milk stood abruptly.

 

“I can’t do this,” she muttered to herself.

 

 

At the Social Services Center…

 

“I need to see someone. A girl I brought in earlier. Her name’s Love… short girl, long brown hair, doesn’t speak much?”

 

The receptionist blinked. “Hold on.”

 

She tapped through the screen.

 

Milk waited, heart thudding louder with every second.

 

“…I’m sorry,” the woman finally said, brows furrowing. “There’s no one here under that name. Are you sure she was processed?”

 

Milk’s heart dropped. “I… I saw her go through those doors myself.”

 

“Then I’ll check with the intake officer.”

 

Ten minutes later, a different staff member came to the front.

 

“She was here earlier, but when we went to give her something to eat, she was gone. Disappeared.”

 

“What do you mean gone? You lost her?” Milk’s voice cracked.

 

“She must have slipped out. No one saw her leave. We’re checking the cameras now.”

 

Milk didn’t wait to hear more. She rushed out the building, grabbed her phone, and called the only person she could think of.

 

 

 

Back at Namtan’s cafe…

 

“You did what?!” Namtan nearly dropped the muffin tray.

 

“I left her there and I didn’t think she’d run!”

 

“Milk, she’s probably looking for you.” Film said, already grabbing her hoodie from the hook.

 

“I didn’t think she’d just vanish…”

 

“Oh my god,” Namtan muttered. “Okay. We’ll help you. We’ll split up and start looking around.”

 

“Where would she go?” Film asked. “She doesn’t know the city.”

 

“I don’t know. We’ll just look around. Start with the close proximity from the center where I brought her.”

 

 

 

The city was alive and noisy. Too alive for someone like Love.

 

Milk, Namtan, and Film split up, scanning the sidewalks, parks, and bus stops. Milk’s heart pounded with every passing minute. The guilt was suffocating her.

 

She kept calling Love’s name despite knowing she might not even respond.

 

 

Meanwhile…

 

Love had been walking for what felt like hours.

 

The world around her was too bright, too loud, too fast. Cars honked, people brushed past her without even a glance, lights flashed and blinked like stars that had fallen into the streets.

 

She didn’t know where she was going… only that she had to find Milk.

 

Somewhere in her chest, there was a strange ache. Something hollow and heavy at the same time. She didn’t know what it was called. But it hurt more the farther she walked.

 

Eventually, her legs gave up. Her feet were tired. She found a narrow corner between two buildings, where the shade blocked the city glare and the air was quieter.

 

She crouched there, arms around her knees, eyes blinking slowly.

 

Waiting. Hoping.

 

 

Back with Milk…

 

“I checked the train station and the street market—nothing,” Film reported on the phone.

 

“Nothing in the park either,” Namtan said.

 

Milk wiped sweat from her forehead. Her legs were aching, but she wasn’t going to stop.

 

She turned a corner near a row of old shops, her eyes scanning every step of pavement—then froze.

 

There, nestled between a small bakery and a shuttered bookstore, was a quiet little alleyway.

 

And in it… a small figure crouched low, hugging her knees, her head resting on her arms.

 

Milk’s breath caught in her throat.

 

“Love…” she whispered.

 

She ran over.

 

“Love!”

 

The girl stirred, then slowly lifted her head.

 

Milk dropped to her knees beside her. “There you are! Oh my god I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

 

Love stared at her for a second, eyes glossy, face blank with exhaustion. Then—

 

She lunged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Milk’s neck.

 

Milk gasped, momentarily stunned… and then hugged her back.

 

She whispered. “I shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t know you’d just… disappear.”

 

Love didn’t speak. She just held on. Like letting go would mean getting lost all over again.

 

Milk pulled back a little and cupped her face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

 

Love shook her head slowly.

 

“I’ll take you home. Okay?”

 

Love gave the tiniest nod, her eyes still wide and wet.

 

Milk stood up, helped her to her feet. As they walked out of the alley, Love glanced up at her and smiled with her eyes.

 

Milk’s heart twisted. Her guilt getting stronger.

 

 

Namtan’s car finally pulled up at the curb where Milk and Love waited. The moment the car door swung open, Film leaned out from the passenger seat, waving wildly.

 

“There you are!” she called. “Get in before you run away again.”

 

Milk laughed tiredly as she helped Love into the backseat. She gave Namtan a grateful look as she slid in beside her. “Thank you.”

 

Namtan just rolled her eyes with a smirk. “You owe me a drink.”

 

“Two drinks,” Film added from the front. “One for the stress and another for the emotional damage of imagining Love lost in this terrifying, capitalist city.”

 

Milk chuckled as she glanced at Love, who was now quietly fascinated by the car’s window. She reached up and gently poked the button for the automatic lock, then jumped when it clicked.

 

She tried again, pressing the window button and when the glass began to slide down, her mouth formed a perfect little “O.”

 

Namtan glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Has she never been in a car before?”

 

Milk sighed. “I… honestly don’t think so.”

 

“She’s cute, but I still think she’s an alien,” Film whispered loudly.

 

“Honestly, you found her in the sea, right? Maybe she’s a mermaid.” Namtsn chuckled at her joke.

 

Milk froze, she remembered the old man’s tale. But she still refused to believe it. While Love just smiled and let the wind brush against her face from the open window.

 

By the time they reached Milk’s apartment, it was already dark. Namtan parked along the curb, and all four of them climbed out. Love stood at the sidewalk for a beat.

 

Film and Namtan stayed just long enough to make sure they got inside safely. They stood by the car, watching Milk and Love disappear into the apartment lobby.

 

 

In that moment, Love may have found more than just shelter.

 

She may have found something special.

 

A warmth that reminded her of gentle tides and sunlight filtering through waves.

 

She may have just found her new family.

 

And though she couldn’t quite put it into words yet, her heart already knew.

 

 

 

Chapter 4: House Rules

 

Milk stared at the girl sitting on her couch, wrapped in her oversized clothes, looking like a lost puppy with those big round eyes.

 

She let out a deep sigh, hand on her hip. “I seriously can’t believe I’m doing this.”

 

Letting a stranger live with her. Someone who barely speaks, eats like she’s never seen food before, and literally has no background or ID. Milk could barely pay her own rent—now she had a roommate?

 

But, she got a new job faster than expected, which felt like a small miracle. The money part? That was a problem for another day.

 

“Okay, since you’re officially… here, we need to lay down some house rules,” Milk said, trying to sound firm, though her voice cracked halfway.

 

Love just sat there blinking at her, eyes wide and shiny like actual boba pearls, for pete’s sake. Milk always noticed how big and round they were.

 

“Do you understand me?” she asked, raising a brow.

 

Love didn’t respond right away. Just… stared.

 

Milk groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Please say something.”

 

“Rules?” Love finally said in that soft, breathy tone of hers.

 

Milk paused. It wasn’t the first time she heard Love speak but every time she did, it kind of… did something to her insides. Like flipping a tiny switch.

 

“Yes. Rules.” She cleared her throat and pointed a finger up. “Rule number one. Not everything is food. Especially not other people’s pets.”

 

Love tilted her head, as if recalling her fish feast.

 

Milk pointed at her. “You owe Namtan three fish.”

 

Love’s eyes went rounder. Guilty.

 

“Rule number two,” Milk continued, pointing a finger like a strict school teacher, “since you’re here under my roof, you’re gonna help me do the chores.”

 

Love tilted her head, intrigued.

 

“But—not the cooking,” Milk added quickly, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not ready to lose this apartment to a fire.”

 

Love gave her the tiniest smile, like she didn’t fully understand but was happy to agree anyway.

 

“Dishes, sweeping, cleaning, maybe watering the plants—that stuff’s fine,” Milk clarified. “But if you even look at the stove when I’m not here, I swear…”

 

Milk held up three fingers. “Rule number three. Stop clinging around too much, alright? I need my personal space.”

 

Love, who was currently sitting way too close on the couch… so close their arms were touching—blinked up at her innocently.

 

“I mean it,” Milk added, scooting a few inches away. “I can’t even make coffee in peace without you suddenly breathing down my neck like a curious cat.”

 

She took a deep breath beside her. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. But if we’re gonna survive living together, we need structure, okay?”

 

Love nodded again. A bit more eagerly this time.

 

Milk glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “You really don’t talk much, huh?”

 

Love looked at her, then softly said, “Milk.”

 

Milk groaned into a couch pillow. “This is going to be the weirdest chapter of my life.”

 

Love grinned beside her like everything was going perfectly fine.

 

“And please don’t just say one word. We need proper communication if you’re gonna stay here. Tell me something… ask me something.” Milk murmured.

 

Love stared for a moment, silent. After spending the past few days watching people talk and move, listening closely, she had slowly begun to understand. And now, somehow, she was starting to pick it up herself.

 

Mermaids don’t usually talk with their mouth, they communicate in their own way—with their inner voice—only a mermaid can hear and recognize.

 

“What’s a… girlfriend?” Love suddenly asked. And with all the questions she could asked this was what she had in mind.

 

Milk blinked hard, staring at Love like she’d just heard the most insane question.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Love tilted her head, her voice soft but certain. “What’s a girlfriend?” She repeated.

 

Milk’s jaw went slack. “You—why are you asking that?”

 

“Film and Namtan,” Love said, her eyes round and serious. “They said I am your girlfriend.”

 

Milk groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Oh my god. Those two. I leave you alone with them for one morning and they turn you like this?”

 

Love blinked, still waiting for an answer.

 

“And why is that the first full sentence that came out of your mouth?” Milk mumbled.

 

She paused, realizing Love was still watching her, genuinely confused. Her innocent expression somehow made it worse.

 

“Okay,” Milk exhaled. “A girlfriend is… um, someone you’re romantically involved with. Like, you’re in love with them. Hold-hands, kiss-on-the-lips kind of thing. Someone who takes care of you.”

 

Love’s brows furrowed, thinking it over.

 

“And no,” Milk said quickly, holding up her hands, “you’re not my girlfriend.”

 

Love’s expression didn’t change much. “But… you feed me. And gave me slippers. And a couch to sleep. You take care of me.”

 

Milk pointed a finger. “That’s called being a decent human being. Not a girlfriend.”

 

Love gave a tiny nod, as if storing this new data somewhere in that pretty little head of hers.

 

“I fed you. That’s not dating,” Milk added. “I gave you slippers. Also not dating. Letting you live on my couch so you don’t get hit by a bus? Still not dating.”

 

“But… you let me stay,” Love said quietly.

 

Milk groaned, rubbing her face. “Yes, because I have a conscience. Not because I’m your girlfriend.”

 

Love looked down at the pillow in her arms. “So… I’m not your girlfriend.”

 

“Nope.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“…Can I still sit beside you?” Love asked.

 

Milk looked at her. Soft, hopeful, ridiculously pure.

 

“Yeah, you can sit beside me,” she mumbled.

 

Love brightened instantly, sliding closer across the couch like she just won a prize.

 

“What happens if I break one of the rules?” Love asked, her voice soft and curious. “Will you leave again?”

 

Milk froze. The words hit her right in the gut, sharp and unexpected.

 

She glanced at Love, who looked genuinely unsure like she didn’t understand where the line was, but was scared to cross it anyway.

 

Milk scratched the back of her neck, letting out a breath. “No. I mean—yeah, rules are there for a reason, but it’s not like I’m gonna kick you out just because you mess up.”

 

Love tilted her head slightly, eyes wide with that same quiet innocence.

 

“I left you at Social Services because I thought it was the right thing,” Milk admitted. “But it felt wrong the second I walked away.”

 

She sighed again, softer this time. “Just… don’t eat any more pet fish, okay? Let’s start there.”

 

Love gave a tiny nod, then asked seriously, “So… I stay?”

 

Milk looked at her, then shrugged with a small, tired smile. “Yeah. You stay.”

 

Just when Milk thought she could finally relax, Love asked with complete sincerity…

 

“So… when will I be your girlfriend?”

 

Milk stared. Blinking. Processing.

 

“…Excuse me?”

 

Love just kept looking at her, patiently waiting like it was the most normal question in the world.

 

Milk held up a hand. “Okay, first of all, what happened to the quiet girl who only said ‘Milk’ and licked whipped cream like it was magic?”

 

Love gave a small shrug. “I listened. Watched. Learned. You told me to say something.”

 

“Oh great,” Milk muttered, standing up and pacing a little. “So now you’re fluent enough to ask that?”

 

“I’m just asking,” Love replied calmly. “You said girlfriend means holding hands… kissing… you held my hand once when you defended me from the bad guy last time… but I haven’t kiss you yet.”

 

Milk nearly choked on air.

 

“I—I—wha—No! That’s not how that works!” she stammered, flailing her arms like it might stop the conversation from progressing.

 

Love just blinked at her, completely unbothered.

 

Milk pointed at her with wide eyes. “You can’t just go around collecting moments like stamps and calling it romance!”

 

“I also said it means two people who are in love with each other. I’m not in love with you and neither you are with me.”

 

Love just blinked.

 

Milk groaned and dropped onto the couch, covering her face with a pillow. “I take it back. I want the quiet version of you again. Can we rewind?”

 

Love smiled and quietly slid closer to Milk again.

 

“Where have you been all this time you don’t know what a girlfriend is?”

 

She just smiled. Because in her world, love didn’t come with labels. Mermaids didn’t have words like “girlfriend” or “boyfriend.” When a mermaid found someone, it was for life. They called that person their other half, a bond that was sacred and unbreakable.

 

There’s an old saying whispered through the currents of the sea: A mermaid only loves once. And when they do, it’s complete. They value loyalty and faithfulness, and a kind of love that doesn’t fade.

 

 

 

 

“What’s up, gfs?” Namtan grinned from behind the counter the moment Milk and Love stepped into the cafe.

 

“Namtan,” Milk warned, shooting her a sharp look.

 

Namtan raised both hands innocently, though her smirk betrayed her. “Okay, okay. No teasing today.”

 

Love, quiet as ever beside Milk, lifted a clear plastic bag filled with water… and three small goldfish swimming peacefully inside.

 

Milk folded her arms and glanced at her as if waiting for her to say something.

 

Love looked at the fish, then back at Namtan. “I’m sorry about Bubbles, Buttercup, and Blossom. It won’t happen again.”

 

Namtan’s jaw dropped. “Woah woah wait, since when did she learn to speak a whole sentence?”

 

Milk sighed. “Yep. Welcome to my life now. She’s unlocked speech like it’s a new video game level.”

 

Namtan leaned over the counter, eyes wide. “What did you do, teach her with flashcards?”

 

“I didn’t do anything. She just… absorbs everything.”

 

Love looked proud. She grinned and handed Namtan the bag of fish with both hands. “Peace offering.”

 

Namtan took the bag, still a little stunned. “Okay, wow. Honestly? Apology accepted. That was kinda sweet. A little weird, but sweet.”

 

“She’s learning,” Milk muttered. “Which should be great… if she wasn’t also asking me when we’re gonna be girlfriends and kiss.”

 

Namtan’s laughed instantly. “Oh, I need to sit down for this!”

 

Milk groaned, “This is your fault, Namtan.”

 

 

 

She glanced over at Love, who was already staring curiously at a stack of croissants like they were shimmering treasure.

 

“Namtan, I owe you a lot. Thank you for this,” Milk said sincerely. Her best friend volunteered to let Love stay at her cafe while Milk still at work.

 

Namtan waved her off with a grin. “Oh please. We’re like family. Besides, it’s not hard to keep an eye on her, and I’ve got staff. She’ll be fine.”

 

Milk smiled, reassured. “Still… I really appreciate it.”

 

Namtan leaned in a bit, lowering her voice with a smirk. “…But she’s not gonna eat my fish again, right?”

 

Milk groaned. “Nooo. I already talked to her. She promised.”

 

In the background, Love was pressing her face against the glass of the display case, eyes wide at the cake slices.

 

“She seems distracted enough,” Namtan added, amused.

 

“She always is. But still, just in case maybe keep the aquarium covered?”

 

“Good idea.” Namtan nodded.

 

Love turned to them and pointed to a muffin. “Can I eat that?”

 

Namtan and Milk looked at each other and laughed.

 

“She’s hungry,” Namtan said, grabbing a muffin and handing it over.

 

“We just ate breakfast.” Milk sighed and slightly shook her head.

 

 

“Okay. I’ll be back after work. If anything weird happens…”

 

“We’ll be fine. Go,” Namtan said, waving her off with a confident grin. “You act like you’re leaving your child on the first day of school.”

 

Milk gave her a look, but didn’t argue.

 

Just then, Love tugged gently at Milk’s sleeve. “Will you be coming back?” she asked, voice small, eyes starting to shimmer with a quiet worry.

 

Milk turned to her, caught off guard by the question and the sadness flickering in Love’s expression.

 

“Yes, Love,” she said softly. “We already talked about this last night, remember? I’m just going to work. I’ll be back later.”

 

Love hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Do you promise?”

 

Milk froze, her heart pinching a little. She wasn’t sure why it hurt to see that kind of vulnerability in Love’s eyes but it did. Maybe because deep down, she knew Love wasn’t just asking about today.

 

After a beat, she nodded.

 

“I promise.”

 

 

 

Love sat quietly at the counter, legs gently swinging as she watched Namtan move around behind the bar, mixing drinks with ease. The cafe buzzed with casual conversation and the soft sound of the espresso machine, but nothing too hectic. Just a normal day.

 

She watched, listened, and absorbed. That was enough for her right now.

 

Namtan glanced over, noticing how still Love was. “Are you okay? Bored?” she asked while wiping down the counter in front of her.

 

Love didn’t say anything right away, just tilted her head slightly. Her eyes kept shifting toward a girl in the corner who was completely absorbed in her phone, watching something with her earphones in and a soft smile on her face.

 

“What is she holding?” Love asked, curious, pointing toward the girl.

 

Namtan followed her gaze, then laughed softly. “Oh, that? A cellphone. You can do a ton of stuff on it… call people, text, play games, watch shows, listen to music… pretty much everything.”

 

Love nodded slowly, taking it in like a new information.

 

“You’ve never seen one before?” Namtan asked, brows slightly raised.

 

Love shook her head.

 

Namtan leaned on the counter, eyeing her with a mix of amusement and wonder. “Seriously… I’m dying to know where you came from. You’re not familiar with anything here. It’s like… you dropped out of the sky.”

 

Love offered no reply. She couldn’t explain. Not this. Not yet.

 

After a pause, Namtan smiled and reached for her phone in her apron pocket. “Here,” she said, placing it gently in Love’s hands. “Use mine. You can watch movies or listen to music whatever you want. Just swipe here, and press this to go back. Got it?”

 

Love looked down at the phone in awe, as if Namtan had just handed her a piece of treasure. Her fingers hesitantly touched the screen before following the instructions with cautious curiosity.

 

Namtan grinned. “There you go. Welcome to the 21st century, Love.”

 

 

 

Love was already fully immersed in a show she found on Namtan’s phone, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, completely invested in show until the cafe door swung open with a loud jingle.

 

“Yo! What’s up! Namtan, I’ve missed you—woah!” a loud voice boomed, followed by a tall guy in a denim jacket strolling in like he owned the place. He paused mid-step when he spotted Love. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”

 

Namtan didn’t even blink. “Love, this is Fourth, Milk’s cousin. Fourth, this is Love. Milk’s… girl—uhm, friend.”

 

“Friend, huh?” Fourth said, waggling his brows. “I doubt that.”

 

He grinned and stepped closer to Love, hand outstretched. “Hi, miss. Nice to meet you.”

 

Love just stared at his hand.

 

“…She doesn’t do introductions?” Fourth asked, still frozen in handshake mode.

 

“Yeah,” Namtan said, not even looking up as she wiped down the counter. “Quit trying.”

 

Fourth pulled his hand back, eyes narrowing playfully. “Right. Mysterious type. I like that.”

 

“Where’s Milk?” he asked, glancing around the cafe like she might pop out from behind the counter.

 

“At work,” Namtan replied, refilling a syrup bottle without looking up.

 

Fourth raised a brow. “She got work already? That was fast.”

 

“Yup. First day today,”

 

“Tch. I wanted to see her,” Fourth muttered, sitting down onto a nearby stool and tapping his fingers against the counter. “Haven’t seen her since… what, last month?”

 

Beside him, Love was still quietly watching her show, earphones in. She peeked at Fourth once, then back to her screen, uninterested.

 

Fourth leaned toward Namtan and whispered, “Seriously though… she always this quiet?”

 

“Oh, you missed a lot, Fourth. Your cousin’s life is very interesting.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

 

 

It was already seven in the evening when Milk finally returned from her first day at work, exhausted but relieved. She pushed the cafe door open, expecting a quiet reunion but instead, she was greeted by the sound of laughter.

 

There, at the counter, was Fourth, laughing loudly with Love.

 

Fourth noticed her immediately. “Eyy! My favorite cousin is back!” he called out, grinning as he raised his cup in greeting.

 

Milk blinked. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Passing by to say hi,” he said. “Didn’t expect you to come home with a girlfriend though.”

 

Milk groaned, dropping her bag onto a nearby chair. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

 

“Sure,” he said with a wink.

 

Milk glanced at Love, who simply offered her an innocent smile. She dragged herself toward the counter, rubbing her temples.

 

Love leaned closer to Milk, lightly tugging her sleeve. “You came back.”

 

Milk slowly looked up, her expression softening despite herself. “Yeah. I said I would, didn’t I?”

 

Love smiled so brightly it nearly undid all of Milk’s exhaustion.

 

Fourth smirked between them. “Sooo... still not your girlfriend?”

 

Milk didn't answer. She just buried her face again on the counter. “I need a decaf before I lose my mind.”

 

“…seriously, Fourth what are you doing here?”

 

“Just checking in. You’ve been silent lately, not answering calls, texts... I was starting to think you’d joined a cult or something.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

 

“Busy, huh?” Fourth smirked, tilting his head toward Love. “Yeah, I can see that. Real busy letting adorable stranger move into your apartment.”

 

Milk groaned. “Namtan, seriously?”

 

Namtan was already sipping her coffee, unfazed. “What? He’s your cousin. He asked. I told him. It’s not like I have any alibi.”

 

Fourth laughed and Milk sank into her chair. “I can’t with the both of you.”

 

“But hey,” Fourth added with a shrug, “it’s kinda cute. Weird, but cute. Like a romcom…”

 

Love looked up and blinked, her brows furrowed. “What’s a romcom?”

 

Fourth grinned. “A romantic comedy like what you were watching earlier. You and Milk should watch one sometime.”

 

“Watching? Watching what?” Milk curiously asked.

 

“I taught her how to use phone, let her watch that’s all. And you know, she’s kind of a fast learner.” Namtan answered.

 

 

 

Milk ran her hand down her face, and stood up from her seat. After almost half an hour of chatting with Fourth and Namtan. She decided to go home. She was tired.

 

“Alright. Time to go home,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Love, let’s go.”

 

Love pouted slightly, glancing at Fourth and Namtan like she didn’t want to leave just yet. “But we’re talking…”

 

“Come on,” Milk said.

 

Love stood up slowly and followed Milk.

 

Fourth noticed and smirked. “You sure she’s not your girlfriend?”

 

Milk groaned again, tugging Love toward the door. “I swear, Fourth, one more word.”

 

Love gave a little wave to Namtan and Fourth as they exited the cafe.

 

 

 

As Milk struggled with her keys at the door, the sound of heavy footsteps behind them made her tense.

 

Then came the deep voice. “Milk.”

 

She didn’t even need to turn. She already knew who it was.

 

Greg. The debt collector. Big guy, even bigger attitude.

 

Milk muttered under her breath, “Not now…”

 

“Three months, Milk,” Greg said, stepping in close. “You think I’m running a damn charity?”

 

“I told you, I just got a job. I’ll pay just give me a little more time,” Milk replied, trying to stay calm. Her fingers gripped the keys a little tighter. Love hiding behind her back.

 

“I’m done waiting.” His voice dropped, low and threatening. “You either give me something now, or we’ve got a problem.”

 

“Please,” she said, glancing around. “Not now.”

 

“I don’t care.” Greg reached toward her bag, as if he was ready to take whatever he could.

 

But before he could lay a hand on her, Love moved between them and…

 

 

“Agh—what the—!”

 

Love had stepped forward and landed a solid punch straight to Greg’s face. It was swift, clumsy, and powerful. Greg stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood began to drip.

 

Milk’s eyes went wide. “Love?!”

 

Love stood frozen for a beat, then slowly cradled her wrist with a sharp inhale, eyes starting to glisten with pain.

 

“Why would you—?” Milk rushed to her, gently touching her hand. “Are you okay?”

 

Love’s face scrunched slightly as she held her wrist to her chest, trying not to cry. The impact had clearly hurt more than she expected.

 

Greg blinked, dazed and furious. “What the hell—Did she really punch me?!”

 

He wiped the blood from under his nose and let out a short laugh, more out of disbelief than amusement. “You got a bodyguard now, huh?”

 

Milk glared at him. “Get lost.”

 

He pointed at her with a bloodied hand. “This isn’t over.” Then he turned and stormed off down the hall.

 

As the tension dissolved, Milk turned back to Love, her expression softening with worry. Love was still holding her wrist like it was broken.

 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Milk said softly. “That was… reckless.”

 

Love looked up at her and simply said, “He was trying to hurt you.”

 

Milk sighed heavily and gently took Love by the arm, leading her inside.

 

“Come on. Let’s take care of that hand.”

 

Once inside, Milk rummaged through her freezer and pulled out an ice, wrapping it in a towel.

 

“Here,” she said, sitting beside Love on the couch. She reached for the injured hand, cautious. “This might sting a little.”

 

Love flinched at the cold, but didn’t pull away.

 

Milk pressed the ice pack more firmly against Love’s wrist, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” she muttered. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But next time? Don’t do that. Seriously.”

 

Love nodded like an obedient kid who just got scolded.

 

Milk eyed her. “Where did you even learn to punch someone like that?”

 

“I saw it earlier while watching a movie on Namtan’s phone.”

 

Milk blinked. “You learned it… from a movie? Just like that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

‘So Namtan was right when she said Love is a fast-learner.’  Milk thought to herself.

 

Milk leaned back with a sigh. “Unbelievable.” She mentally noted to tell Namtan to switch Love’s viewing options to nature documentaries or something equally non-violent.

 

Milk glanced at Love's bruising knuckles again and muttered, “You’re actually strong. How did you manage to punch a huge guy like that?”

 

Love just blinked, her head tilting slightly. “I don’t know… I just did.”

 

Milk frowned. “No offense, but you don’t look like someone who could knock a guy that size off balance.”

 

Love looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers gently as if the pain was secondary. “He tried to hurt you. I didn’t like that.”

 

Milk softened for a second, then sighed. “Still. That punch was… intense.”

 

What neither of them knew… what Love herself didn’t even realize, was that mermaids, even in human form, were naturally far stronger than the average person. Their bodies were built to survive the crushing depths of the ocean, swift currents, and predators ten times their size.

 

But here on land, Love hadn’t yet connected the dots. To her, what she did was simple instinct. Protecting Milk just felt… right.

 

Milk leaned back on the couch, still holding the ice pack. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

 

Love tilted her head again. “I’d never hurt you.”

 

That made Milk pause. “…Right. Okay. Let’s maybe not test that theory though.”

 

 

 

She was still nursing the wrist when, out of nowhere, Love leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her in a tight, warm hug.

 

Milk went completely still. “Wh—what are you doing?” She was completely shocked.

 

Love didn’t let go. “I watched this show earlier,” she said softly, “about Wan and Maewnam. Wan didn’t know if she liked Maewnam, so her bestfriend Noey gave her an advice.”

 

Milk had a very strange feeling about where this was going. “What… kind of advice?”

 

“There are two things Wan needed to try. First… hug the person. If your heart beats really loud, it means something.”

 

Milk’s heart was pounding, but whether it was from the surprise hug or the nonsense Love was saying, she couldn’t tell.

 

“And… what’s the second thing?” Their bodies still pressed together.

 

Love replied innocently, “You kiss them.”

 

Milk yelped and practically jumped a foot away from the couch. “Hey! Love—what kind of show are you watching?!”

 

“It’s a love story,” Love said, still completely unbothered. “And it was cute. Wan already kissed Maewnam in episode three—”

 

“Stop! I don’t wanna hear it!”

 

Love blinked, her expression somewhere between amused and confused.

 

Milk, flustered and red from ear to ear, pointed at her.

 

“I’m gonna prepare our dinner. Stay still,” Milk said quickly, standing up a little too fast.

 

She didn’t even glance back as she made her way to the kitchen. Truth was, she just needed a breather, something to focus on that wasn’t the warm flutter in her chest or the way Love had said ‘I’d never hurt you’ with such quiet certainty. It made her feel... something. And Milk wasn’t ready to unpack that.

 

 

Love stayed on the couch, quiet and still, her eyes tracing every little movement Milk made in the kitchen, a small smile playing on her lips.

 

Milk glanced at her once, just once, and quickly looked away.

 

This girl. This strange, quiet, fearless girl who didn’t even belong to this world, somehow… was beginning to feel like she belonged in hers.

 

Milk sighed, stirring the pan.

 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she called out, not daring to look back again.

 

And from behind her, Love’s soft voice answered, “Okay… Milk.”

 

Outside, the city buzzed like it always did. But inside that small apartment, two very different lives were starting to settle into the same rhythm.

 

 

 

Chapter 5: Reckless

 

It had been five weeks since Love started living in Milk’s apartment and somehow, against all odds, they’d actually made it work. It was weird… in a surprisingly functional kind of way.

 

Love was endlessly curious, always asking questions about everything. And Milk, to her own disbelief, turned out to have the patience of a saint or at least enough for the both of them. More than the patience of three people combined.

 

Love had started settling in. She was learning how to do chores properly, she spoke more fluently now, and she was slowly figuring out how to blend in with the human world. It had been confusing for her at first—emotions especially. Humans, she discovered, were a lot more complicated than it seems.

 

Milk didn’t really mind having her around anymore. In fact, she’d gotten used to it. These days, she’d wake up in the morning to the smell of breakfast being made by Love. And yes, even though Milk was against her cooking at first, out of fear she might burn the place down, she couldn’t help but admit—Love had gotten really good at it.

 

The girl could watch a recipe video once and pull it off like she’d been doing it for years. It kind of freaked Milk out, honestly. Love wasn’t just learning fast, she was absorbing everything like a sponge. Smart, quick, adaptable.

 

And it made Milk wonder even more— where did Love really come from?

 

“Why can’t I go with you to work?” Love asked, a piece of egg halfway to her mouth. It was Saturday, Milk didn’t have to work.

 

Milk sipped her coffee and replied casually, “Because you’re not an employee. Only people who work there are allowed in.”

 

Love blinked. “Then can I work too?”

 

Milk paused, lowering her mug. “It’s… not that simple. You need to have a degree.”

 

“What’s that?” Love asked, chewing thoughtfully.

 

Milk scratched her head. “It’s like… proof you finished school. Like studying for years and getting a piece of paper that says you’re allowed to do certain jobs.”

 

Love nodded slowly, still chewing. “Sounds like a long process.”

 

“It is,” Milk muttered. “A painfully expensive and stressful one.”

 

Love looked at her plate. “So… I can’t help you with work?”

 

Milk smiled a little. “You help enough around here already. That counts for something.”

 

Love beamed at that and stuffed another bite into her mouth.

 

Milk chuckled softly. “Besides, I’m not ready to bring you to work and have my boss think I’m dating a runaway alien or something.”

 

Love paused, wide-eyed. “What’s an alien?”

 

Milk groaned. “Eat your eggs, Love.”

 

 

 

Milk let out a long, dramatic sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling from the couch. “I’m so bored I can hear the fridge humming.”

 

Love, seated cross-legged on the floor nearby, was too absorbed in Milk’s phone to notice. She was watching a video of someone assembling a cake in fast motion, her eyes wide like it was the most magical thing she’d ever seen.

 

“Let’s go somewhere,” Milk suddenly said, breaking the silence.

 

Love perked up instantly, her face lighting up with excitement. “We’re going out?” she asked, voice filled with way too much enthusiasm.

 

“Yes,” Milk nodded, sitting up.

 

“To Namtan’s?” Love asked hopefully.

 

“No… just somewhere. Like a park, or a mall. I don’t know.” Milk shrugged. “I’m bored.”

 

 

 

Love could barely contain herself the moment they stepped into the mall. Her eyes sparkled like she’d just entered a magical kingdom. All the bright lights, endless shops, and people everywhere made her excited.

 

She clung to Milk’s hand, tugging her in every direction as soon as something shiny or fluffy caught her eye.

 

“Love, slow down—”

 

“Look! Can I have it?” she asked, pointing eagerly at a medium-sized rabbit plush displayed in a toy store window. Her face practically screamed ‘ I need this to survive.’

 

Milk blinked at the plushie. Then at Love. “No.”

 

“Why not?” Love pouted instantly, her shoulders dropping.

 

“It’s for kids,” Milk answered as she gently tried to pull her away. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

 

Love looked absolutely offended by that statement. She hugged her own arms like she had just been personally wronged by the universe. “But it’s soft…”

 

Milk sighed, trying not to laugh. “So is the pillow on your couch.”

 

“But the pillow doesn’t have long ears.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes. “We’re not getting that rabbit plush, Love.”

 

Love gave her the most dramatic slow blink she could muster, and pouted.

 

Milk burst out laughing. “Okay that was kind of funny.”

 

Love cracked a small grin, but her eyes lingered on the rabbit plush a second longer. Just in case Milk changed her mind.

 

They continued walking, approaching every store Love would find amusing, and sticking by Milk’s side. Eventually, they reached the food court. Milk grabbed a tray and asked, “Wanna eat here?”

 

Love nodded enthusiastically.

 

Milk stifled a snort and handed her a drink. “Come on. Let’s find something to eat.”

 

As they sat down with their food, Milk glanced at Love, still wide-eyed, amazed by everything, so full of life. And for the briefest moment, Milk smiled to herself.

 

Maybe today wasn’t so boring after all.

 

 

As the sky began to dim and the crowd at the mall thinned out, they made their way toward the exit. Love had long since stopped pulling Milk around and was now walking quietly beside her, feet dragging just a little, clearly tired from all the excitement.

 

Milk glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “Hey. You okay?”

 

Love nodded, but her voice was soft. “Yes… I just liked everything. Thank you for today.”

 

Milk smiled. “Glad you had fun.”

 

As they stepped out of the sliding glass doors, Milk paused suddenly. “Wait here.”

 

Love blinked. “Why?”

 

“Just give me ten minutes. Don’t move.”

 

Before Love could ask again, Milk had already disappeared back into the mall.

 

Left alone outside, Love stood awkwardly near a bench, staring at the people passing by. She hugged herself lightly and looked up at the sky, trying to count stars through the haze of city lights.

 

Exactly ten minutes later, Milk returned, slightly out of breath… and holding a medium-sized rabbit plush.

 

Love gasped. “You got it?!”

 

Milk held it out with a sheepish grin.

 

Love stared at the plush in awe before gently taking it into her arms like it was made of glass. “You got it… for me?”

 

Milk didn’t answer. Even she, didn’t understand why she did it.

 

Love hugged the plushie tightly and then without warning, threw her arms around Milk too. “Thank you so much I’m so happy!”

 

And Milk felt it, the unexplainable loud thumping inside her chest like her heart couldn’t contain it. She laughed, patting Love’s back. Love pulled back, beaming. “Best day ever.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “Come on, let’s go home before you start asking for a matching pillow.”

 

They walked off together, Love swinging the rabbit plush in her arms, both of them lighter than they were hours ago.

 

 

Back at the apartment, Milk collapsed onto one end of the couch with a long, tired sigh. It had been a long day but her exhaustion wasn’t just physical. Something had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks, and tonight, it felt heavier than usual.

 

Love sat on the opposite end, hugging the rabbit plush Milk had surprised her with at the mall. She’d been watching Milk closely, quietly, sensing something was off. The woman looked lost in her own thoughts.

 

“You’re quiet,” Love said softly. “Are you okay?”

 

Milk glanced at her, surprised by the gentle concern in her voice. She hesitated, then slowly sat up and folded her arms over her knees. “Can I tell you something?”

 

Love nodded.

 

“I’ve been having these dreams. The same one… over and over again,” Milk began, her voice low and thoughtful. “It’s the day I almost drowned. I can still feel it sometimes… the water, the panic, the moment I thought I wouldn’t make it.”

 

Love sat still, her smile fading.

 

“But in the dream, someone saves me. A woman,” Milk continued. “I never see her face, just flashes—her arms pulling me up, her hair floating around me like seaweed. And when I wake up, I always wonder… was it really just a dream?”

 

Love swallowed hard. Her hands gripped the plush tighter.

 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Milk added, giving her a small, awkward smile. “I guess it’s just been bothering me. It feels too real sometimes.”

 

Love looked at her, heart thudding. She wanted to say, It wasn’t a dream. It was her. She wanted to say she had been there, watching, protecting, and when Milk slipped beneath the waves, she had dove in without thinking twice.

 

But she didn’t say any of that.

 

Instead, Love simply whispered, “Maybe that woman wasn’t just part of a dream. Maybe she’s real.”

 

Milk blinked. “You think so?”

 

Love nodded slowly, her voice steady even if her heart wasn’t. Milk stared at her for a beat too long, like she was trying to see past what Love was saying.

 

But then she looked away, brushing it off with a tired sigh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

 

And just like that, the room went quiet again but something had shifted between them. A little closer. A little deeper.

 

And Love knew, the truth would come out eventually. But for now, she was just happy to be here—with Milk.

 

 

 

It was Monday, and just like every start of the week, Milk had headed off to work early. She left Love under Namtan’s watch again, just until she felt it was safe enough. She couldn’t risk it, Greg might come back for her after what happened few weeks ago.

 

Though Love had grown more accustomed to her life on land, blending in better with humans each day, there were still little things she hadn’t quite grasped.

 

At the café, Love stood behind the counter, carefully wiping it clean with slow, circular motions, mimicking what she’d seen Namtan do countless times. Namtan hadn’t asked her to help, but Love did it anyway. It made her feel like part of something. Besides, she genuinely liked it here. The gentle aroma of coffee, the faint hum of soft music, and the warmth that came with watching people smile over their drinks.

 

Love now knew her way around the café surprisingly well. She knew where the napkins were kept, how to refill the sugar containers, and how to wipe down tables just the way Namtan liked them. The only things she didn’t touch were the coffee machine and the register, those were still off-limits, for now.

 

“You’re really getting the hang of this,” Namtan said with a proud little smile as she peeked out from the kitchen.

 

Love perked up at the praise. “I like doing this. It’s calming.”

 

Namtan chuckled. “You say that now, but wait until the rush hour crowd comes in.”

 

Love smiled back, unfazed. Whatever came next, she was ready to learn.

 

Because deep down, she wasn’t just learning how to live like a human, she was learning how to stay.

 

“Good morning!!” a familiar voice boomed from the entrance.

 

Love flinched, nearly dropping the rag in her hand. Namtan looked up from behind the bar and sighed. “Fourth,” she muttered.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

 

“I’m on a few days leave,” he said dramatically, flopping onto one of the café chairs like he owned the place. “Need to rest. Life’s been rough. I’m stressed. Totally burned out.”

 

Then he spotted Love. “Hey, Love!” he grinned, waving. “Working here now, I see?”

 

Love gave him a small nod.

 

“Gotta say, this café’s definitely upgraded its charm since you showed up.”

 

Namtan rolled her eyes. “Don’t flirt in my café, Fourth.”

 

“Hey, I’m just being friendly!” he said with a laugh. “Right, Love?”

 

Love blinked at him, unsure. “You’re... loud.”

 

Fourth laughed even harder. “You’re not wrong. But you like me, don’t you?”

 

Love turned to Namtan and whispered, “Is that a trick question?”

 

Namtan snorted. “Don’t feed his ego, Love.”

 

Fourth clutched his chest dramatically. “Wounded. Deeply.”

 

But despite the antics, the café somehow felt livelier with him there even if Namtan would never admit it out loud.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come with me,” Fourth suddenly asked, leaning casually on the counter.

 

Love tilted her head. “To where?”

 

“Just a little stroll. Walk around the area. I wanna get some fresh air, and maybe show you around too, just in case Milk doesn’t take you out much.”

 

Love blinked. “She takes me out sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes,” Fourth echoed with a grin. “But come on, it’s not a date or anything. Think of it as… orientation. You’ve been here for weeks and barely seen the world outside the café and apartment.”

 

Love glanced over at Namtan for reassurance. “What are you up to, Fourth?” Namtan asked, eyeing him with mild suspicion.

 

“I’m just gonna show her around, promise,” Fourth said with both hands raised. “No funny business. Swear. I just... I don’t know, wanted to walk and not be alone, I guess.”

 

Namtan narrowed her eyes at him. “If anything happens to Love, I’ll personally watch Milk beat the crap out of you. And I’ll film it.”

 

Fourth laughed nervously. “Noted. Fully noted.”

 

Namtan turned to Love and smiled. “Go ahead, Love. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you.”

 

“But what about you?” Love asked, her brows furrowed.

 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got this place handled.” She winked. “Besides, he’s right. You should go out more. Stretch your legs. Explore a bit. Just…have fun, okay?”

 

Love gave a small nod and smile. “Okay.”

 

“What about Milk? I need to tell her—”

 

“Oh come on,” Fourth cut in with a teasing grin, “she’s not your girlfriend. You’ll be back before she even notices.”

 

Love frowned slightly. “Still… I don’t want her to worry.”

 

Namtan smiled as she handed Love her bag. “I’ll text her, don’t worry. You’re not sneaking off to the moon.”

 

Fourth stepped toward the door and gestured. “Come on, Love. Just a walk. A little adventure.”

 

Love hesitated for a second longer, then nodded slowly. “Alright. Just for a while.”

 

“Atta girl!” Fourth grinned. “Let’s go before Namtan changes her mind and sends me to do dishes.”

 

 

 

Fourth had managed to take care of Love just as he promised. He took her around town, letting her try all sorts of foods she had never tasted before, everything from grilled street skewers to bubble tea, which made her eyes light up with delight.

 

They wandered through a local market where Love’s curiosity kicked into high gear again. She pointed at things, asked questions non-stop, and Fourth answered them patiently…some seriously, some jokingly.

 

They visited a small temple where Love watched people light incense and make silent wishes. She asked what it meant, and Fourth did his best to explain human rituals and beliefs, which only added to her growing fascination with the world.

 

He even brought her to a park where an outdoor performance was happening, and though Love didn’t understand every detail, she was amazed by the music and dancing. She clapped along, laughing freely, and Fourth couldn’t help but smile seeing how easily amused she was.

 

“You really are new to all this, huh?” he said casually as they sat on a bench, watching kids chase bubbles around.

 

Love nodded, sipping from a drink he bought her. “It’s different. But I like it.”

 

True to his word, Fourth kept everything respectful and safe. He treated her more like a little sister than anything else, someone he wanted to protect, maybe even spoil a little. And Love, in return, trusted him enough to just enjoy the moment.

 

By the time the sun almost started to set, they were both tired, but Love was smiling, arms full of small snacks, a cute hat Fourth insisted on buying her, and a mind full of new experiences.

 

“I heard from Namtan you’ve taken a liking to action movies?” Fourth asked, glancing sideways at Love as they strolled down the sidewalk.

 

Love nodded. “Yeah. They’re intense. I liked them.”

 

He smirked, nudging her with his elbow. “She also told me you threw a mean punch a few weeks ago.”

 

“I did,” Love answered simply, like it was no big deal. “He deserved it.”

 

Fourth let out a low whistle. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

 

She gave a small smile, not entirely understanding the sarcasm but appreciating it anyway.

 

Then, with a spark of mischief in his eyes, Fourth leaned in. “Wanna watch something even better than those movies? Real action. Up close.”

 

Love blinked. “What kind?”

 

“Trust me.” He grinned, already tugging her in a new direction. “It’s gonna blow your mind.”

 

 

They ended up in a sketchy part of the city…dim lights, graffiti-tagged walls, and a line of people crowding around a heavy metal door. Loud bass thumped from inside. Fourth greeted the guard like he’d been there a hundred times.

 

“What is this place?” Love asked, her eyes wide as she took in the crowd.

 

“Underground boxing,” he answered casually, slipping some cash to the guy at the door. “Totally illegal, totally chaotic. But fun to watch.”

 

They walked in, and Love was instantly hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and adrenaline. The place was packed. A tight circle surrounded a makeshift ring, people shouting, throwing money into the air, chanting the names of the fighters. The roar of the crowd was deafening.

 

Love stood still for a moment, trying to process the overwhelming scene. It was nothing like what she’d seen in movies. It was raw. Brutal. Real.

 

Inside the ring, two men were going at it—no gloves, just fists, sweat, and blood. The crowd screamed with every hit, while someone shouted out odds from the corner.

 

“I used to come here all the time before. Don’t tell Milk and Namtan,” he leaned in with a smirk. “Thought you might want to see what a real fight looks like.”

 

Love tilted her head. “They fight for fun?”

 

“Well for money mostly. But some of them just enjoy the thrill.” He handed her a bottled water, keeping a casual but protective eye on her.

 

“This is... different,” Love said, eyes locked on the fight.

 

Fourth laughed. “Told you. Better than any action flick, right?”

 

“Do you fight?”

 

“Nope. I just watch and bet. That’s all.”

 

Love was too focused. The rhythm of the fight, the energy. And in the middle of it all, while Fourth was watching the fight and shouting along with the crowd, Love caught a glimpse of a man across the ring, leaning against a pole, a drink in hand, staring straight at her.

 

Greg.

 

Her chest tightened.

 

He smirked when their eyes met. Recognized her instantly.

 

She froze.

 

Unaware, Fourth turned to her. “Cool, right?”

 

Love didn’t answer.

 

Because suddenly, it didn’t feel like just a fun night anymore.

 

 

Love waited until Fourth was fully engrossed in the match, yelling with the crowd, before she slipped away. She weaved through the crows quietly, until she reached the far side of the makeshift ring, where Greg stood, leaning against a post with a smug expression, arms crossed like he owned the place.

 

He spotted her before she could say a word.

 

“Well, well.” Greg said, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. “Watching fights, huh? Is this where you learned to throw that punch?”

 

His tone wasn’t angry or bitter. It was casual, almost amused. Like getting punched by her was just a funny story he told his friends over drinks.

 

Love stood her ground. “Why do you want to hurt Milk?”

 

Greg tilted his head lazily. “What is it with you and that girl? You her girlfriend or something?”

 

Love blinked. “No.”

 

He chuckled under his breath. “Then why are you playing hero?”

 

“She doesn’t deserve this,” Love replied firmly.

 

“She doesn’t deserve this,” he repeated mockingly, dragging out the words. “She still owes me money.”

 

“How much?”

 

Greg raised a brow. “You think you’re gonna pay me now?”

 

Silence.

 

“Ten thousand baht,” he said, watching her closely.

 

Love didn’t reply. She didn’t even know what that amount looked like, but it sounds huge because if it wasn’t, Greg wouldn’t bother going after Milk. Love had nothing. No money, no job.

 

Greg smirked wider. “That’s what I thought.”

 

Love clenched her fists, her heart pounding, not in fear, but in helplessness. She hated this feeling. This unfairness.

 

A sudden roar erupted from the crowd, snapping Love’s attention back to the ring. Two men were still going at it—sweaty, bloody, brutal. But it wasn’t the fight that held her focus this time.

 

It was the idea.

 

Bold. Reckless. Dangerous.

 

But it lit something inside her.

 

She turned back to Greg, eyes steady and full of resolve. “I’m going to pay you. Just wait.”

 

Greg raised an eyebrow, the cocky grin slipping slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Just wait,” Love repeated, firmer this time.

 

And with that, she walked off leaving Greg watching her with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

 

It may have sounded laughable, even immature. But to Love, it didn’t matter. All she knew was that Milk was important. Milk had saved her in more ways than one. And if this was the way to protect her, even if it meant stepping into a world she didn’t understand, then so be it.

 

 

“My bet won! Did you see that, Lov—”

 

Fourth turned with a grin, but his smile dropped instantly when he saw the empty space beside him.

 

“Love?” he called, scanning the crowd. “Love?!”

 

Panic gripped his chest as he spun in circles, weaving through the buzzing audience. “Where the hell did she go?”

 

He bumped into people, pushing past bodies. “Hey! Have you seen a girl? About this tall? Fair skin? No? Sh*t.”

 

He rubbed his face, heart racing. “Milk’s gonna kill me. She’s actually going to kill me.”

 

Just as he was about to lose it completely, a roar came from another part of the arena, a new match was about to start.

 

Fourth glanced over, almost dismissing it… until his eyes landed on the ring.

 

Standing in the corner, under the harsh lights and surrounded by a wall of noise and chaos—

 

Was Love.

 

Tight-shouldered. Focused. Wearing borrowed gear that didn’t quite fit.

 

Fourth’s jaw dropped.

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

 

 

 

At Milk’s Side…

 

Milk had been buried under meetings and a flood of paperwork all day. The ringing phone, clattering keyboards, and nonstop chatter from her coworkers drowned everything else out, until she finally checked her phone during a brief pause.

 

A message from Namtan blinked at her.

 

She tapped on it.

 

Namtan: Fourth brought Love out.

 

Milk frowned.

 

Milk: Where exactly did he take her?

 

Namtan: Didn’t say. Just told me he wanted to show her around.

 

Milk sat up straighter, tension building in her chest.

 

Milk: Are they back yet?

 

Namtan: Not yet.

 

Milk stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. Something about this felt off.

 

Suddenly her focus was gone.

 

Milk: I’ll try to call Fourth. Message me if you hear from them.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back to Fourth and Love…

 

“Stop! Stop!” Fourth shouted, pushing through the crowd with growing panic. He tried to climb up the edge of the ring, reaching out. “Love! Get out of there!”

 

But the noise was deafening, cheers, shouts, bets being placed, fists pounding against metal barriers. No matter how loud he yelled, Love couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were locked on her opponent, focused and unblinking.

 

“Move! She can’t—” he started, but a few men in front of him shoved him back roughly.

 

“Let the girl fight, man!”

 

“Looks like she knows what she’s doing!”

 

“No, she doesn’t! Does she look like a fighter to you, huh?!” Fourth snapped, trying again to push forward. But the ring was already sealed off by guards.

 

Inside the ring, Love clenched her fists, heart thudding—not out of fear, but determination. She didn’t hear Fourth. She didn’t hear anything.

 

All she could think about… was Milk.

 

 

Love kept her eyes on her opponent. A tall, muscular woman with years of experience etched into her stance. The moment the bell rang, the crowd exploded in noise. Love had no idea what the rules were, only what she’d seen in movies and videos. But she knew one thing… she couldn’t lose.

 

She’d never been in a real fight before. But she’d watched enough. Memorized moves. Replayed videos again and again. And deep inside, something unfamiliar but primal was starting to wake.

 

There are no rules. No time limits. Just fight until someone drops and surrender.

 

The woman lunged first, fast and brutal. Love tried to dodge, but she was a second too slow. A sharp jab hit her cheek, sending a flash of pain through her jaw.

 

She staggered back, the crowd gasping.

 

“Come on!” her opponent sneered, beckoning her forward. “Thought you had guts?”

 

Love steadied herself, eyes narrowing. Her cheek throbbed, pain traveling throughout her body, but she didn’t flinch. She moved carefully, circling. The second hit landed against her ribs, and the air whooshed out of her lungs. She dropped to one knee, her fingers curling against the mat.

 

In the corner, Fourth was still shouting, fighting to get through the crowd.

 

“LOVE! GET OUT OF THERE!”

 

But inside the ring, Love’s eyes burned not with pain, but purpose.

 

She stood again.

 

This time, she waited. She watched the woman’s feet, the rhythm of her movements, the way her right arm twitched just before she swung.

 

When the next punch came, Love ducked.

 

Then struck.

 

A quick jab to the stomach. Another to the side. She moved faster than anyone expected. Her fists, though smaller, hit like steel. Her opponent faltered, caught off guard by the sudden speed and power.

 

Love saw the opening and took it.

 

With one final, clean uppercut, snapped straight from a scene she’d watched just days ago—her opponent crashed backward and hit the mat hard.

 

The crowd went quiet.

 

Fourth froze, jaw dropping. “No f*cking way…”

 

Love stood in the middle of the ring, panting, bruised, bleeding, and shaking slightly—but she had won.

 

She stood in the center of the ring with victory.

 

And still thinking of only one person.

 

Milk .

 

She scanned the crowd, her breath still heavy, sweat trickling down her temple, and there he was. Greg. Leaning against the rail with a stunned expression, his jaw dropped, eyes wide with both disbelief and amusement.

 

He didn’t expect her to win.

 

No one did.

 

The underground pit suddenly erupted. Cheers, whistles, people shouting her name even though they didn’t know it. Some were climbing onto crates just to get a better look at the small girl who had just dropped their reigning champion with a single, perfectly timed punch.

 

How could someone so small… so deceptively delicate-looking, possess that kind of strength?

 

But that’s just it.

 

Love wasn’t like them.

 

Her power, her speed, her instincts, they weren’t human. She didn’t fully understand it herself, but there was something coursing through her veins, something that separated her from everyone else in that room.

 

While the crowd roared and bet slips were torn or raised in victory, Love kept her eyes on Greg. She wasn’t fighting for the crowd.

 

She fought to protect Milk.

 

And from the look on Greg’s face, she had finally made her point.

 

 

 

Back to Milk…

 

Milk: Namtan did Fourth call you already? He’s not answering my call.

 

Namtan: Milk. Are you going home now?

 

Milk: yes. Why? Just packing my things. Where’s Love and Fourth? Did they come back already?

 

Namtan: okay. Be safe :)

 

Milk: Namtan…

 

Milk: Where are they?

 

Namtan: Just come home quick.

 

 

 

It was already past eight in the evening when Milk finally arrived. The traffic had been unforgiving, stretching her travel time by more than an hour. She was exhausted, her head pounding slightly from the long day, but something in the air felt... off.

 

The moment she stepped into the café and noticed that it was closed earlier than usual. She immediately spotted Namtan, Film, and Fourth huddled near the counter like they were trying to shield something—or someone. Their expressions were tight, nervous, as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment with dread.

 

“Where’s Love?” Milk asked, sharp and suspicious.

 

Fourth instinctively took a step forward, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Namtan and Film exchanged anxious glances but said nothing, worry written all over their faces.

 

“Milk… listen,” Fourth began carefully. “Do you trust me that in no way I would intentionally put Love into danger??”

 

Milk’s eyes narrowed immediately. That wasn’t a good way to start anything. “What did you do?” Her voice dropped, firm and cold.

 

“It’s not—” Fourth fumbled, “it’s not what it looks like.”

 

“Fourth,” she said again, more sharply this time, “What. did. you. do?”

 

“Milk—please—”

 

She didn’t let him finish. Milk stepped past him in one swift motion and shoved him aside…

 

And then she saw her— Love.

 

Bruised. Quiet. Holding ice on one side of her face. Sitting on one of the stools with her shoulders slightly dropped and her hands resting limply on her lap. A cut split her bottom lip. One cheek had started to swell, and her knuckles were red and scraped.

 

Milk froze in place, a heavy rush of emotions crashing into her all at once.

 

“What the hell happened to you?!” Her voice broke at the end.

 

No one responded.

 

“Fourth!” she snapped, turning sharply to him again.

 

But Fourth could only lift his hands helplessly before turning to Love. His eyes silently begged her to explain, to say something or anything.

 

Love met Milk’s gaze, steady but unsure. She opened her mouth, then hesitated for a second before speaking.

 

“I fought someone,” she said quietly.

 

Milk’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “You what?”

 

“I didn’t plan it. But Greg was there. He said… he said you owed him money. That he would come back again.”

 

“Love—”

 

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” Love interrupted gently. “So I fought. I joined the underground boxing match. I won… and pay him off using the prize money.”

 

The silence that followed was heavy and painful.

 

Milk looked like she was about to explode. “You fought in an illegal match?!”

 

She stared at her for a long moment, the anger and worry swirling in her eyes. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she tried to breathe through it.

 

Milk’s jaw tightened, lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her glare on Fourth. Her voice dropped, trembling with restrained fury. “You still go to those underground fights? I thought you were done with that shit. And you brought Love?”

 

Fourth froze, eyes wide. “Milk—”

 

“It’s not his fault,” Love quickly cut in, trying to defend him. But Milk shot her a sharp look.

 

“Don’t,” she warned. “We’ll talk later.”

 

“Milk, please,” Fourth said, raising his hands in a helpless gesture. “We didn’t go there to fight. I just wanted to show her around. We were only there to watch, but then something happened, and—”

 

“I don’t give a damn about your intentions!” Milk snapped. “You took her to a place crawling with thugs, with bets and blood and who knows what else! What the hell were you thinking?!”

 

Fourth tried to respond, but his voice caught in his throat. He knew he had no good excuse.

 

Love stepped forward again, wincing slightly. “Milk, I made the choice. I got in the ring—”

 

“I told you to stop talking.” Milk didn’t yell. Her tone was quiet, but it cut sharper than any shout. “You think that makes it okay? Getting your face beaten over me?”

 

Love shrank back slightly at the intensity in Milk’s eyes.

 

Everyone in the room went still.

 

Namtan looked down. Film bit his lip. Even Fourth couldn’t meet her eyes.

 

Love lowered her gaze, finally understanding the depth of Milk’s worry.

 

Milk exhaled sharply and turned away, pacing once as she tried to calm herself.

 

“Let’s go home,” she said finally. “Now.”

 

 

 

As soon as the apartment door shut behind them with a heavy thud, Milk spun around to face Love, eyes dark and unreadable.

 

“Explain,” she said coldly.

 

Love stood still for a moment, fingers gently tugging at the edge of her stained shirt, eyes lowered. “We only went there to watch,” she began softly. “Fourth didn’t plan anything. He just wanted to take me out.”

 

Milk said nothing, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

 

“Then I saw Greg,” Love continued, lifting her gaze just a little. “I remembered what he did… how he tried to hurt you. I couldn’t let it go. I talked to him, asked why he was after you. He said you owed him money.”

 

Milk’s jaw clenched again, but she stayed silent.

 

“I told him I’d pay it back. Then I left Fourth’s side without him knowing. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it,” Love paused, “and I… registered to join the fight. I thought maybe if I won, I could use the money to pay Greg and make him go away.”

 

Milk’s eyes narrowed. “So your solution was to throw yourself into an illegal brawl? Do you even hear yourself, Love?”

 

Love didn’t answer and just bowed her head.

 

“I get it you’re new to all this, and you’re strong and fast, but honestly I don’t know where you even came from,” Milk said, her voice firm but shaken with emotion. “But that doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself into something like that.”

 

She took a step closer, eyes locked onto Love’s. “You don’t get to decide what sacrifices to do. You don’t fix things like that… by nearly getting yourself killed.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed through. “And this is MY problem, I should be the one handling it.”

 

“Stop giving me headache,” Milk snapped, her voice rising slightly from the tension, worry, and frustration that had built up all evening.

 

But the moment she saw the way Love’s eyes welled with tears, Milk’s heart dropped.

 

Love’s voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Her arms reached forward, gently wrapping around Milk, and within seconds she broke into uncontrollable sobs. It wasn’t the fight, nor the pain  that scared her…it was this. Milk being angry. Milk possibly pushing her away.

 

Milk froze at first, but then let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her expression softened as she slowly raised her hand and placed it on Love’s back, giving her a gentle pat, a quiet comfort.

 

“I didn’t mean to yell,” she murmured, barely audible. “I just… I was worried… I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

After a warm shower and fresh clothes, Love had finally dozed off on the couch, her breathing soft and even. The adrenaline from earlier had faded, replaced with exhaustion.

 

Milk sat on the floor beside her, gently dabbing ointment on the cuts lining Love’s knuckles and the side of her lips. Her fingers moved carefully, afraid to wake her, though Love remained still except for the occasional twitch or murmur in her sleep.

 

Milk took a moment, eyes quietly scanning Love’s sleeping face. The curve of her lashes, the faint redness in her cheeks, the slight pout of her lips.

 

“That was so reckless… and stubborn,” she whispered to herself, a half-sigh escaping her lips.

 

Love stirred, just a little, as if hearing her, but she didn’t wake.

 

Milk leaned back a little, arms resting on her knees. Her chest felt heavy not just from worry, but something else she hadn’t fully named yet.

 

She continued watching her, her gaze softening as the weight of the night slowly settled. The chaos, the worry, the fear…it all circled back to this quiet moment. To Love, fast asleep on her couch, wounded but now safe.

 

She reached over and pulled a blanket gently over her, tucking it under her chin.

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

 

Milk stood, one last look at the girl curled on her couch, then turned off the light.

 

She hadn’t realized it yet, but something stirred inside her chest.

 

 

Chapter 6: “I mean it.”

Notes:

“Someone I love was born today…”

~ Loverrukk, July 31, 2025

 

Love slowly stirred on the couch, the aroma of something warm and savory pulling her from sleep. This is how they always start their day.

 

Her body protested the movement, slightly aching in places she didn’t know could ache, each throb a reminder of what she’d done the day before. She tried to push herself up, slightly wincing.

 

“Don’t move,” Milk’s voice came from the kitchen. Firm, but not harsh.

 

By the time they settled at the table, the food was already laid out between them. Simple breakfast, but enough to fill them. They sat across from each other in silence, the clink of utensils the only sound for a moment.

 

Love, still a little unsure, stole glances at Milk between bites. She pouted a little, voice soft. “Are you still mad at me?”

 

Milk looked up, sighing through her nose, equal parts disbelief and affection. She didn’t answer right away.

 

“You threw yourself into a fight, what do you think.” Milk said at last, setting her spoon down.

 

Love lowered her gaze.

 

“I’m not mad,” Milk repeated, softer now. “Just… don’t ever do that again.” She found herself staring now.

 

Almost only a day had passed since Love got those bruises and cuts and yet here she was, moving around like it didn’t hurt at all. The swelling on her cheek had gone down faster than it should. Even the bruise on her face, the one that made her wince last night, barely seemed to bother her now.

 

Milk furrowed her brows, silently watching Love reach across the table for more rice like nothing ever happened.

 

“You’re healing… fast,” Milk finally said, trying to sound casual, but her voice hinted with confusion.

 

Love paused, then looked down at her arm like she only now realized it too. “I guess I am,” she mumbled, clearly unsure what to say.

 

Milk leaned back slightly, her eyes narrowing not out of suspicion, but out of genuine curiosity. “That’s not normal, you know. You looked like hell yesterday, and now you’re practically fine.”

 

Love met her gaze for a moment, unsure how to explain something she didn’t even fully understand herself. So instead, she smiled faintly.

 

But Milk didn’t smile back. Something about all of this… it gnawed at her, quietly. Something about Love didn’t quite fit into the world the way everyone else did.

 

After breakfast, Love quietly walked over to Milk, holding a bag close to her chest. Her steps were slow, hesitant, and when she finally stopped in front of her, she extended the bag with both hands.

 

“What’s that?” Milk asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

 

Love held it out more firmly. “It’s for you. The prize money.”

 

Milk didn’t even reach for it. She looked at Love like she’d just said something absurd. “No. Love, keep it. That’s yours.”

 

“But I did it for you,” Love replied softly.

 

“I know,” Milk said, her tone gentle but firm. She let out a deep breath and stepped closer. She took Love’s hands and pushed the bag back toward her. “Listen to me… don’t do that again. Ever. I’m not saying I’m not thankful, but no more fighting like that. No more risking your life for something that’s not even your burden to carry.”

 

Love looked down, guilt heavy in her eyes.

 

Milk softened a little at that, but her voice remained steady. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done it all my life. Promise me, Love. No more fights.”

 

Love gave a small, reluctant nod. “Okay. I promise.”

 

Milk didn’t let go of her hands. “Good. Because next time you come home with bruises like that, I’m gonna pinch your ears.”

 

That earned the tiniest smile from Love.

 

 

 

They returned to the café, the early sun filtering softly through the windows. Milk seemed a little lighter today—calmer, more herself. Though there was still a trace of tiredness in her eyes. What happened last night hadn’t fully left her, but at least the storm had passed.

 

As they walked in, the familiar scent of roasted coffee and warm pastries filled the air. Fourth was at the counter, chatting with Namtan while Film sat beside him, sipping iced tea with a bored expression.

 

“There they are!” Namtan spotted them first, waving them over with her usual bright energy.

 

Fourth turned around, an easy smile on his face, but there was hesitation in his steps as he approached Milk. Guilt still hung around his shoulders.

 

“Milk, I—” he started.

 

But she cut him off gently, her voice softer than the night before. “I’m sorry, Fourth. I didn’t mean to lash out on you like that. I was just frustrated, okay? I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

 

Fourth’s face lit up with relief. “No worries! Really. It’s my fault anyway. I never should’ve brought Love to that place.”

 

As if on cue, Love quietly reached forward and tugged at the hem of Fourth’s shirt. He glanced down just as she looked up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said in the smallest, softest voice, so full of sincerity that even Film turned to smile at her.

 

Fourth blinked, then broke into a grin and gave her a playful pat on the head. “You’re too cute to stay mad at.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. It was stressful, yes. But, somehow relieved now.

 

“Wait, Love, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” Fourth said, brows furrowed. “How did you even manage to get yourself into that fight?”

 

Love blinked innocently. “They wouldn’t let me at first. Said I didn’t look like a fighter.”

 

“…And?”

 

“I punched the table in front of them.”

 

“You punched—” Film turned from his drink, eyes wide. “—the table?”

 

“Yeah,” Love nodded casually, as if it was the most logical thing to do. “It cracked a little. I guess that convinced them.”

 

Namtan nearly choked on her coffee. “You cracked a table?!”

 

Milk sighed and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed.

 

“You’re so strong for someone so petite,” Film said, still amazed, eyeing Love like she was a superhero in disguise.

 

“Yeah, she is,” Fourth chimed in, grinning. “Kinda makes me wonder if you’re up for another—woah, woah! Okay, sorry! I’m just kidding!” Before he could even finish his sentence, Milk smacked the back of his head using her hand.

 

“How come you heal so fast? Last night you looked like a thug who just crawled out of a street fight, and now you’re almost good as new,” Namtan said, narrowing her eyes at Love while sipping her coffee.

 

Film leaned in, squinting at her face. “Yeah. I noticed that too.”

 

Eventually, everyone turned to look at Milk, half-expecting an answer.

 

Milk held up both hands. “Don’t look at me. I asked the same thing.”

 

“She’s not human,” Fourth muttered under his breath, loud enough for Love to hear.

 

Love gave him a playful glare, although it was a joke, she felt nervous hearing that word. She’s not ready to spill it yet.

 

Everyone was curious but just let it slide—well not completely, especially for Milk. Something was gnawing at her about Love’s origin, she just can’t point it out yet.

 

“But seriously, Milk, you were terrifying last night.” Namtan said, teasingly nudging her arm. “You sounded like a worried girlfriend.”

 

Fourth and Film both nodded in agreement, trying to stifle their grins. Love glanced at Milk with a curious expression.

 

“Are you sure you’re not girlfriends?” Film added, eyebrows raised, a mischievous smile tugging on her lips.

 

“They are girlfriends,” Fourth said without missing a beat, pointing between the two.

 

“Stop,” Milk cut in, her voice firm but cheeks already betraying her with a faint pink tint.

 

Love, unable to hide her smile, looked down at her drink, clearly enjoying the conversation.

 

“Okay. Just curious,” Namtan said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “In case you’re not aware of how obvious you both are.”

 

Fourth snorted. “Seriously, the tension? The stares? The protective girlfriend energy? It’s practically a drama series in here.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the corner of her lips twitching.

 

Love, still quiet, just kept her gaze on Milk with that soft smile that said everything without a word.

 

 

 

It was just the four of them now. Milk had already left for work, leaving Love with Namtan, Fourth, and Film inside the café. The atmosphere was relaxed until Film leaned forward with a grin, her curiosity getting the best of her.

 

“Love, do you like Milk?” she asked boldly, unable to hold it in any longer. She had been wondering about it since the moment she saw them together, but after everything that happened last night, the answer felt pretty obvious.

 

“Come on, of course she does,” Fourth chimed in with a laugh. “Who else would willingly enter an illegal underground fight just to help pay off someone else’s debt? That’s not normal behavior, it’s crush behavior.”

 

“Definitely not something you do for just anyone,” Namtan added, nodding in agreement. “She’s down bad.”

 

Film turned to her girlfriend with a teasing smile. “Would you do that for me?”

 

Namtan gave her a smirk. “In a heartbeat. And I’d win.”

 

Film grinned, satisfied, before turning her attention back to Love. “So, Love… do you like her?”

 

Love hesitated for just a second. Then, slowly and quietly, she nodded, barely moving, but enough for them to catch it.

 

The three of them immediately broke into soft giggles, exchanging knowing glances like they’d just confirmed a juicy secret.

 

“Okay, okay wait.” Film leaned in again. “Here’s the real question. Do you love her?”

 

Namtan gave her a playful shove. “Isn’t that a little early?”

 

“Oh please,” Film said, waving her hand. “She literally got into a fight, risked a concussion, probably bruised half her ribs just for Milk. If that’s not love, then what is?”

 

“And this is coming from someone who confessed her feelings after, like two conversations,” Namtan teased back.

 

Film winked. “What can I say? I know what I want.”

 

Love smiled faintly as she listened to them. But something about the way her eyes softened when they said Milk’s name made them all pause because in that moment, it didn’t seem too early at all.

 

They waited, eyes on Love, hanging onto the silence even if they already knew what she would say. It was written all over her, but still they wanted to hear it from her.

 

Namtan gave her a soft smile and said. “Let’s not pressure her. We already know the answer anyway.”

 

But Love finally spoke, her voice quiet, unsure. “I don’t think she likes me.”

 

The mood shifted slightly. There was something in her eyes just a flicker of doubt, but enough to dim her usual glow.

 

“What makes you say that?” Film asked gently.

 

Love only shrugged.

 

Fourth leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re overthinking.”

 

Film, sensing the shift in mood, clapped her hands lightly to change the atmosphere. “Alright, enough moping. I’m free today come out with me.”

 

Love looked up. “Where are we going?”

 

Film grinned, throwing a look toward Fourth. “Don’t worry, I’m not dragging you into another underground fight. I’ll let Fourth keep that title.”

 

“Hey—” Fourth started, but Namtan cut in with a smirk.

 

“Just make sure to update Milk where you’re going. Or she might hunt us all down.”

 

“Duly noted.” Film said with a salute.

 

Love chuckled under her breath. It was faint, but it was there.

 

 

 

Milk was halfway through her lunch, seated among her coworkers who were deep in their own conversations, when her phone buzzed beside her tray. She glanced down, thinking it was just another work notification but paused when she saw Film’s name.

 

A photo popped up. It was of Love and Fourth. Love in the middle of laughing, her whisker dimples are showing, while Fourth pulled a face beside her. They looked carefree. Happy. Normal.

 

Then came the message:

 

Film: Brought your girlfriend out. Hope you don’t mind.

 

Milk: Where?

 

Film: funny you didn’t react when I said “girlfriend.” We’re gonna do girls stuff.

 

Milk: what girls stuff?

 

Film: secret :P

Film: don’t worry I’ll bring her home alive and in one piece.

 

 

 

Milk glanced at her watch again while sitting at the counter in front of Namtan. It was already eight in the evening, and Love still wasn’t back.

 

“Will you chill a bit? After what happened last night, I’m sure they’re being extra careful now.” Namtan said, noticing how restless Milk had become.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Milk replied, trying to sound indifferent.

 

“You’ve checked the time like 89 times already.”

 

“I have not.”

 

Namtan leaned in, smirking. “Just admit it, Milk. You’ve caught feelings for her, haven’t you?”

 

“That’s ridiculous.”

 

“Come on. I’ve been your best friend for six years I know you too well.”

 

“I’m just concerned because she’s staying at my place. I feel responsible for her. Like… her guardian or something.”

 

Namtan gave her a knowing look. “Is it really just responsibility, though?”

 

Milk shifted in her seat, eyes narrowing slightly at Namtan as she sipped from her now cold cup of tea.

 

“You’re reading too much into things,” she muttered, almost convincing.

 

Namtan didn’t buy it for a second. She leaned forward on the counter, arms folded, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. “Right. And I suppose the way you scolded her last night like a furious girlfriend was also just part of being a responsible guardian, huh?”

 

Milk rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t furious. I was… upset.”

 

“Exactly my point.” Namtan raised an eyebrow. “You were upset. Not because she disobeyed you. But because she got hurt. Because she could’ve—” she trailed off, letting the implication linger.

 

Milk didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tapped the side of her mug. Finally, she said, “She’s… different. She’s reckless, and unpredictable, and—” she paused, voice softening.

 

“And?”

 

Milk let out a frustrated sigh, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “I don’t even know where she came from, Namtan. I don’t know anything about her.”

 

“But you’re starting to want to.” Namtan said gently. “And that’s how it starts, Milk. You care. Whether you admit it or not.”

 

Milk didn’t say anything this time. She just stared at the door…still waiting.

 

 

 

“We’re back!” Film announced cheerfully as she pushed the door open.

 

Milk was mid-conversation with Namtan when the group walked in.

 

“Holy sh—” Namtan gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth.

 

Milk instinctively followed Namtan’s gaze, and nearly dropped the empty cup in her hand.

 

Love had completely transformed.

 

She walked in with a quiet confidence, wearing a baby tee that hugged her figure, paired with high-waisted flared jeans and a pair of sleek heels that added just the right height. Her makeup was subtle but striking, soft blush on her cheeks, a hint of gloss on her lips, and lashes that made her eyes even more captivating. Her chestnut brown hair now had soft curls at the ends, swaying gently as she walked.

 

For a moment, Milk couldn’t look away. Love didn’t just look pretty—she looked breathtaking. Even the room felt different with her in it.

 

Love gave them a small smile, slightly shy under the weight of their stares.

 

“Uhh…” Milk blinked, trying to remember how to speak. “Where… where did you go again?”

 

Film grinned, clearly proud. “Makeover day.”

 

“I told her she needed at least one normal girly day,” she added with a wink. “You’re welcome.”

 

Love’s gaze subtly flickered to Milk, like she was silently asking, do you like it?

 

Milk quickly looked away, but her flushed ears said it all.

 

“AND we bought a bunch of clothes. Enough with those oversized shirts.” Film said proudly, tossing a playful glance at Love. Fourth, following behind, dropped several paper bags onto the chair beside Milk with a dramatic sigh.

 

“All hers.” he added.

 

Namtan, still staring at Love like she’d just seen a movie star walk in, let out a low whistle.

 

“Wow. Love, you look amazing!” she said, eyes wide with admiration. Then she smirked and turned to Milk, nudging her with her elbow. “Right, Milk?”

 

Milk cleared her throat, clearly trying to play it cool but her eyes had already betrayed her.

 

“She… looks fine,” she muttered, keeping her gaze fixed on the counter, but her ears were turning a shade too red to ignore.

 

Love bit her lip to hide her smile.

 

“Have you guys eaten yet? We brought food,” Fourth announced, holding up the paper bag.

 

 

They all ended up at Film and Namtan’s apartment, the small dining area quickly turning warm and lively as the five of them gathered around the table. Film and Namtan moved in sync, setting plates, pouring drinks, and unpacking the food with practiced ease like they’d done this a hundred times before.

 

Milk took the seat beside Love without thinking, as if it was the only spot that made sense. She casually reached over to scoop rice onto Love’s plate, then added a piece of fried fish and a spoonful of curry. Love smiled quietly and thanked her in a soft voice.

 

The three across the table exchanged knowing glances, but no one said anything.

 

As they ate, the room buzzed with small talk and laughter, but Milk barely noticed. Her attention drifted, again and again, to the girl beside her. Love looked radiant in a way that wasn’t just about the clothes or the light make-up or the curled hair. It was the way she carried herself now. A quiet confidence. A glow Milk couldn’t ignore.

 

Every time Love glanced her way, Milk quickly looked down at her plate, pretending to focus on her food. But the warmth in her chest only deepened when Love gently brushed her fingers on her chin and whispered, “You’ve got rice on your chin.”

 

Milk became flustered. “Thanks.”

 

Across the table, Film whispered to Namtan, “They’re hopeless.”

 

Namtan grinned. “Yes they are.”

 

 

Milk insisted on walking home. It wasn’t that far from the apartment anyway, just a few quiet blocks under the soft glow of streetlamps.

 

Love walked beside her. She kept a hand gently tugging at the hem of Milk’s shirt, as if afraid that if she let go, Milk might vanish into the night. She didn’t say much, just walked in silence, watching the sidewalk, the shadows, then Milk.

 

Milk noticed the subtle tug, but didn’t say anything. Her heart, though, thudded a little louder with each gentle pull.

 

“You don’t have to hold on to me like that,” Milk finally said.

 

Love looked up, eyes innocent and wide. “I just want to.”

 

Milk’s steps slowed for a beat, and she turned to her. “I’m not going anywhere, Love.”

 

They walked the rest of the way like that. Closer, quieter. Two people tangled in something unspoken, with every step pulling them deeper into it.

 

“Do you like anyone?” Love asked out of the blue, her voice soft but laced with genuine curiosity.

 

Milk paused mid-step, just for a second, before continuing as if the question hadn’t shaken something in her.

 

“Where did that come from?” she asked, glancing sideways at Love.

 

Love shrugged, eyes fixed on the pavement. “Just curious.”

 

Milk hummed, almost amused, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “Well, that’s a pretty random question to ask while walking home.”

 

“I think about a lot of things,” Love replied, glancing up at her. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

 

Milk didn’t respond right away. The silence between them stretched for a few more steps.

 

“No. I don’t like anyone,” she finally said, her voice quiet. But Milk wasn’t sure if that’s the whole truth.

 

Love only nodded, but the way her hand tugged a little tighter at Milk’s shirt said everything she didn’t.

 

Milk didn’t like anyone, but she didn’t like me either. Love thought to herself. And then—

 

“I like you.” Love said softly, almost too casually.

 

Milk halted. Like her body had short-circuited. The words hit her chest before her mind could even catch up. She blinked, lips parting slightly, unsure whether she misheard or imagined it.

 

Love just stood there, gazing up at her with a calm, steady look like she hadn’t just dropped something heavy into the middle of Milk’s carefully contained world.

 

Milk's heart was pounding now, deafening in her ears. She didn't move, didn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe properly.

 

What the hell just happened?

 

And all the while, Love said nothing more. She just waited, watching the stunned silence settle over Milk’s face, her own expression unreadable.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“I said I like you.”

 

“And why would you say something like that?”

 

“Because it’s true.”

 

“Maybe you're just confused.”

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“Did Film and Fourth put you up to this?”

 

“No.”

 

Milk fell silent, her eyes scanning Love’s face as if trying to find a trace of hesitation something that would prove it was just a fleeting thought or a playful tease. But there was none. Love was calm, her gaze steady and sure.

 

“You barely know me.”

 

Love took a small step closer. “I know enough. I know you care more than you admit. I know you’re the first person who made me feel safe. I know… I don’t want to be anywhere else but with you.”

 

Milk’s heart thudded against her ribs. She wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Love added quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I just wanted you to know. That’s all.”

 

And with that, she let go of Milk’s shirt and began walking ahead slowly, giving her space, leaving Milk standing under the streetlight, trying to make sense of everything that just happened.

 

“You shouldn’t say things like that if you don’t mean them!” Milk called out, her voice sharper than she intended.

 

Love didn’t stop walking, but her pace slowed just a little. “I do mean it,” she replied, firmly and loud enough to be heard.

 

Milk’s stared at Love’s back. Every step Love took felt like it was pulling something from her chest.

 

For a long moment, she stood in silence. Milk didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her heart wasn’t ready to admit how much that one confession shook her.

 

Love gave her a small smile, then turned away once more and continued walking.

 

Milk started walking again, eyes fixed on Love’s back until the night finally swallowed her silhouette.

 

The night was quieting down, but their hearts refused to rest.

 

 

Chapter 7: A Calm in the Middle of the Storm

 

The morning sun spilled gently through the windows of the living room. Milk’s mind still caught in the echo of the other night’s confession. It had been two days since.

 

I like you.

I like you.

 

Love’s voice kept playing in her head, soft but certain, like a song she didn’t know how to stop listening to. She hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way Love tugged at her shirt, the way she looked at her, not with doubt, but with the kind of certainty that rattled Milk’s carefully guarded walls.

 

“Good morning.” Love’s voice broke into her thoughts.

 

Milk looked up.

 

There she was—messy hair, fresh from sleep, wearing one of those oversized shirts again despite the new wardrobe Film insisted on. She gave Milk a sleepy smile that made her heart skip in ways she tried not to name.

 

“Why do you keep wearing my old clothes?” Milk asked, eyeing the oversized hoodie hanging loosely on Love. “You have new ones now.”

 

Love shrugged with a soft grin, pulling at the sleeves. “I like yours better.”

 

Milk quickly took a sip from her coffee, trying to hide the flush creeping up her face.

 

A beat passed before Love spoke again, her tone lighter. “Are you busy today?”

 

Milk glanced at her briefly. “Why?”

 

“I was thinking… maybe we could go to the ocean park.” Love’s eyes drifted to the window, as if searching for something beyond the buildings. Although she has been living a new life now, there were times she still missed her old life—at the sea.

 

“Okay,” Milk replied, short and simple, her voice steady as she sipped her coffee.

 

Love blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

 

Milk nodded without looking at her. “Hm-mm.”

 

A bright smile lit up Love’s face as she stood from her seat. “Yay! Thank you!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Milk’s shoulders from behind in a loose hug.

 

Milk froze for half a second before letting out a quiet sigh, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

 

 

 

Love's eyes lit up the moment she saw the giant aquarium tunnel sign from afar.

 

“This way!” She said excitedly, grabbing Milk’s hand without thinking.

 

Milk tensed at first, glancing at their interlocked hands, but didn’t pull away. “Slow down,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice calm despite the sudden thud in her chest.

 

Love only smiled wider, eyes dancing as she led them past the crowd and into the cool, dimmed interior of the ocean park. The light immediately shifted into deep blues and greens, mimicking the feeling of being underwater. The aquarium tunnel curved above them, filled with sharks, stingrays, and schools of fish swirling overhead.

 

“Isn’t this amazing?” Love said in awe, her voice echoing slightly. She pressed both palms against the glass as a sea turtle floated slowly above her head.

 

Milk watched her more than the sea creatures. The way Love’s face glowed from the soft blue light, the pure wonder in her expression.

 

“You love the sea, don’t you?” Milk asked softly.

 

Love nodded without turning. “It reminds me of home.” She slipped, a little.

 

Milk brows furrowed, of course she has a home . “Do you remember where it was?” She asked, genuinely curious.

 

Love just smiled faintly at her, trying to avoid the topic. Milk wanted to ask what that meant. She didn’t understand yet the depth of Love’s words. She wanted to know where she came from, her history, her past— her.

 

But, Love wouldn’t let her.

 

 

They continued walking through the tunnel, the quiet lull of water and the occasional gasp from nearby tourists surrounding them. Milk didn’t say much after that. She didn’t need to. But somewhere between the stingrays and the jellyfish tank, her fingers brushed against Love’s… and this time, she didn’t pull away either.

 

Milk went away for a while to buy tickets for an exclusive show. Love stood still in front of the massive aquarium wall, mesmerized by the hypnotic movement of a school of fish gliding in perfect harmony. They shimmered under the dim blue lighting, scattering and swirling like glitter in slow motion. Her breath fogged the glass faintly as she leaned closer, lost in thought.

 

She felt peaceful. But underneath that peace was a quiet ache she couldn't name.

 

“I missed swimming with them,” Love whispered in her inner voice, eyes fixed on the schools of fish darting gracefully across the water.

 

They moved in perfect unity, just like how she remembered—how it used to be.

 

“I missed their taste too,” she added silently, instinctively licking her bottom lip. The ache in her chest stirred again… but this time, it wasn’t just emotional. It was hunger. The kind of hunger she had long learned to suppress.

 

Then something caught her eye.

 

Among the fish, a woman in a glittering mermaid costume swam fluidly, flicking her fin and waving at a group of children pressed against the glass. The kids squealed and laughed, enchanted by the illusion.

 

“That’s not a real mermaid,” Love murmured in her inner voice, almost dismissively.

 

Just then, someone stepped quietly beside her, so quietly she hadn't noticed until now. A woman, slightly taller than her, fair-skinned and composed, arms crossed loosely in front of her, as if she, too, had been silently watching everything unfold.

 

“You’re right,” the woman said, her voice calm, gentle. “It’s just for show.”

 

Love turned her head slightly, startled. Her brows furrowed for a second before softening. There was something oddly familiar in the woman’s presence, something that didn’t feel like a stranger at all.

 

The woman offered her hand, a kind smile on her lips. “I’m Prim. Hope I’m not intruding.”

 

There was no hesitation. No fear. Just that strange, inexplicable pull.

 

“Love,” she answered, reaching out to shake her hand. Prim’s fingers were cold, but not unpleasant.

 

They stood in silence for a moment, both gazing back at the fish.

 

“I used to think I was imagining things,” Prim said softly. “But sometimes, it’s just that no one else can see them the way we do.”

 

Love glanced sideways, curious. “See how?”

 

Prim didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her with a knowing glint in her eye. “The truth hiding in plain sight.”

 

Love couldn’t explain it, but her heart beat a little faster. Like it felt something.

 

And standing beside Prim, watching the artificial mermaid twirl for the crowd, she realized, she wasn’t the only one who are truly mesmerized by the sea and understand its depth.

 

Prim turned to her, an amused glint in her eyes. “How long have you been here?”

 

Love blinked. “What?”

 

The question caught her off guard, and the way Prim asked it… it wasn’t casual, wasn’t small talk. It felt… layered.

 

Prim simply waited, no pressure, but no retreat either.

 

“More than a month,” Love finally said, hesitant but honest.

 

“Are you with someone?” She asked another question. Love only nodded.

 

Prim smiled, as if that was exactly what she expected. Then, without another word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed Love a sleek black card.

 

 

Prim Tangkabodee, M.S.

Marine Biologist

920-8911-xxxx

 

 

Love stared at the card, the smooth texture of it between her fingers, her mind racing. But something else nagged her—something deeper. A sharp breath caught in her chest as the earlier moment replayed in her head.

 

She had used her inner voice. That voice. The one no human could ever hear . No one should have.

 

Unless...

 

Her eyes widened.

 

She snapped her gaze back toward where Prim had stood, but the space was already empty.

 

Gone.

 

She quickly turned around, scanning the crowd, searching past families and kids and staff in uniforms.

 

Nothing.

 

“Where did she go?” Love whispered under her breath, the card still clutched in her hand. Her fingers tightened around it. There were too many questions.

 

But she knows, this wasn’t the last time she’d see Prim.

 

 

“Love, hey, are you alright?”

 

Milk’s voice snapped her out of her daze. She was suddenly standing in front of her, holding two tickets in hand, a concerned crease between her brows.

 

Love flinched slightly, startled.

 

“Ow, y—yeah,” she answered quickly, her voice not quite steady.

 

Milk raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

 

Love gave a small nod, casually slipping her hand behind her back, fingers curling tighter around the black card as if it might vanish on its own. She didn’t know why, but something told her she wasn’t ready to explain. Not yet.

 

“What’s that you’re holding?” Milk glanced down, catching the subtle movement.

 

“Huh? Nothing,” Love lied, stuffing it into her jeans pocket with forced nonchalance.

 

Milk looked at her, skeptical but said nothing.

 

“They’re letting people into the exclusive show,” she said instead, holding up the tickets with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought you’d wanna see the bigger ones.”

 

Love smiled back, but it was faint. Her mind was still replaying that encounter, still holding onto Prim’s voice, her knowing eyes.

 

“Yeah… sure. Let’s go.”

 

She fell into step beside Milk, but her thoughts stayed behind, drifting in the current of questions she didn’t yet have answers to.

 

 

 

The rain had started to pour heavily just as they were nearing home. The sky had turned a deep gray, and the streets glistened with the sudden downpour. Thankfully, Milk had brought an umbrella, but it only did so much.

 

The real problem? Love was wearing sandals, and the water was quickly pooling around their feet. She grew visibly anxious, her eyes glued to the ground as the rain threatened to reach her toes.

 

I can’t let my feet gets wet. Love kept telling herself.

 

“Over here,” Milk said, gently tugging her toward a small overhang beside a closed shop. They huddled beneath it, away from the worst of the downpour.

 

“You okay?” Milk asked, noticing how Love subtly shifted her feet behind her, hiding them as the splash of a car nearby sent water in their direction.

 

“Y-yeah,” Love murmured. “Just… cold.” She lied.

 

But Milk wasn’t convinced. There was a tension in her posture, the way her arms were tucked close and her eyes didn’t meet hers.

 

They stood there for a few more minutes, hoping the rain would let up, but it only softened slightly. Milk peeked past the umbrella, judging the distance left to walk.

 

“I think we can make it if we go now—”

 

“I don’t want to,” Love cut her off quickly, her voice small, laced with a hint of panic.

 

Milk paused, watching her carefully. She didn’t ask why. She just nodded slowly.

 

“Alright,” she said gently, slipping her bag off her shoulders and kneeling a little. “Come on. Get on.”

 

“What?” Love blinked, confused. Milk turned and patted her back.

 

Reluctantly, Love climbed on. She wrapped her arms around Milk’s shoulders and her legs around her waist, the umbrella slightly wobbling above them as they started to move.

 

“Hold on tight,” Milk said, adjusting her grip beneath Love’s legs.

 

Love did. More than just tight, she leaned in close, burying her cheek against Milk’s shoulder as the world around them blurred with rain and the sound of soft footsteps.

 

The warmth between them made the cold rain less noticeable.

 

And for some reason, in the middle of the storm, Love felt safe.

 

 

 

Love was curled up on the couch, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, chin resting gently on top. The room flashed with lightning, followed by a deep rumble of thunder that made her flinch slightly. Sleep was impossible.

 

Even back in the sea, storms had always unsettled her. It wasn’t just the noise, it was the chaos they brought. The way the currents turned wild, the way the others couldn’t rest, how fear clung to everything in the water. That same unease lingered now, even on land.

 

Her thoughts drifted back to Prim.

 

She’s like me , Love thought, blinking slowly as another rumble echoed across the night.

 

Suddenly, her ears caught something faint, barely audible under the sound of the storm. But she heard it. Even through the rain hammering the roof and the thunder crashing outside, she heard Milk.

 

A soft whimper.

 

Love rose quietly, stepping across the floor with practiced silence. She pushed open Milk’s door slowly.

 

Milk lay tangled in her sheets, eyebrows knit together, lips parted in soft, distressed murmurs. Her hands clutched the blanket tightly, and her legs twitched as if swimming against something invisible.

 

She’s having that dream again. Love knew it—sensed it. The drowning .

 

 

 

Milk tossed slightly, her breath catching in her throat like she was submerged in water. In her dream, the panic rose again, water surrounding her, suffocating her, dragging her down. And there she was… the woman . The one who pulled her from the depths.

 

That faceless figure again.

 

She reached for her. Tried to touch her cheek. She almost saw her—almost.

 

But just as her fingers grazed the blurry shape, Milk gasped awake, chest heaving, heart pounding. The first thing she saw was a pair of wide brown eyes staring at her with worry.

 

It was Love, gently shaking her shoulder.

 

“Milk,” Love whispered, her voice barely louder than the rain. “You were dreaming again.”

 

Milk blinked in the darkness, breath slowly calming. Her eyes searched Love’s face in the dim glow of the bedside clock. Somehow… seeing her there felt oddly familiar. Like the warmth in her chest hadn’t fully left the dream behind.

 

“Why are you still awake?” she managed to ask, her voice raw.

 

Love hesitated. “The thunder… it’s loud. I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Milk looked at her for a moment, so small, vulnerable in her oversized shirt, her hair falling messily around her face. The storm outside cracked again.

 

Without thinking, Milk lifted the blanket and scooted slightly.

 

“Come here,” she said softly.

 

Love blinked. “Are you sure?”

 

Milk just nodded and gave a small smile.

 

Love hesitated for a breath, then slowly climbed into the bed. She lay beside Milk, stiff at first, unsure of where to place her hands. But then Milk pulled the blanket over both of them, and without needing words, they moved a little closer. The sound of rain softened against the window.

 

She couldn’t help herself her eyes kept drifting to Milk.

 

Again, and again.

 

Milk’s breathing had slowed, her body relaxed, and her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the haze between sleep and dreaming. Her brows had softened now, no longer furrowed like earlier when the nightmare clung to her features. There was a faint rise and fall of her chest, steady and calm.

 

Love lay beside her, eyes tracing the quiet slope of her face, the gentle curve of her lashes, the way a strand of hair had fallen across her cheek. Carefully, she reached out and tucked it behind Milk’s ear, her touch feather-light, almost afraid to break the silence between them.

 

She turned her gaze to the ceiling, then back at Milk.

 

Her heart was doing that thing again—pounding too hard, too loud. And yet, she felt at peace.

 

Being this close… it felt dangerous.

 

But it also felt like home.

 

Thunder still echoed, but it felt distant now.

 

Between them, there was something warmer. Softer. A calm in the middle of the storm.

 

 

Chapter 8: Piece by Piece

 

Days had passed since that stormy night, and something unspoken had begun to change between them. Love could feel the quiet shift in the air, the warmth that Milk tried so hard to keep hidden but kept slipping through in small, almost unnoticeable ways.

 

It made Love braver.

 

More than once, she found herself wandering to Milk’s room late at night, leaning against the doorframe with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“Can I sleep beside you again?” she would ask, voice soft, almost pleading, her gaze glowing with that same quiet yearning.

 

Every time, Milk’s answer was the same. “No.”

Her tone was firm, but never unkind.

 

“That was one time,” Milk would add, looking away, as if she didn’t trust herself to meet Love’s eyes for too long.

 

“But why not?” Love would press, lips tugging downward into a pout. “You let me last time.”

 

“That was different,” Milk insisted.

 

Love sank into the couch, crossing her arms, sulking like a child denied candy. So I can only sleep beside her when there’s a storm? *Sigh*

 

 

It was a quiet Sunday morning. Love was curled up on the couch, completely absorbed in whatever she was scrolling through on Milk’s phone, her expression shifting with every swipe…curiosity, amusement, and the occasional little gasp.

 

From the kitchen, Milk sipped her morning coffee, watching her in silence. Something about the scene made the corners of Milk’s mouth twitch in a half-smile she quickly hid behind her mug.

 

Without a word, Milk walked over and placed a small box on the coffee table in front of Love.

 

Love blinked at it, then looked up at her, brows furrowed. “What is this?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.

 

“A cellphone,” Milk replied simply.

 

Love’s eyes widened. “For me?”

 

“Yes,” Milk confirmed with a small nod. “So you don’t have to keep borrowing mine anymore.”

What she didn’t say…but was already settled in her mind, was that she also wanted to keep track of Love when she was out of sight. To be able to reach her instantly if something happened… or if she simply wondered where she was.

 

The moment the words sank in, Love lit up like a child unwrapping her first present. She practically launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around Milk in a tight, unexpected hug.

 

Milk stiffened, caught off guard, her coffee mug still in her hand. She tried to keep it steady, holding it away from Love so she wouldn’t spill it on her. She didn’t hug back… at least, not physically, but there was a faint, undeniable stirring in her chest.

 

A warmth she tried not to name.

 

And when Love finally pulled away, clutching the box to her chest, Milk had to glance away, hiding the ghost of a smile that threatened to give her away completely.

 

 

 

Love sat on the couch, fingers tracing the edges of the sleek black card she had been keeping hidden for a week now. Prim’s card. Ever since that encounter with the woman, questions had been circling her mind like restless waves. Why did Prim seem so sure of who or what she was? Why had she given her this card, a direct way to reach her?

 

Maybe Prim knew all those questions would eventually spill out. Maybe that was why she’d made the first move. Still, knowing they might share the same nature didn’t mean Love could trust her. Familiarity don’t guarantee safety.

 

She picked up her new phone, the one Milk had given her just three days ago, and began to dial the number on the card. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a second longer than it should have, but eventually, she pressed it.

 

The line clicked. A woman’s voice answered almost immediately, warm yet laced with something that felt like quiet calculation. Love said nothing. She simply listened, waiting.

 

“Love?” Prim’s voice softened in recognition after a brief pause.

 

“It’s me,” Love replied at last.

 

“Took you long enough,” Prim murmured, but there was a flicker of concern beneath her tone. “Do you need anything? Is everything alright?”

 

“I have… a lot of questions.”

 

“Of course you do.”

 

They agreed to meet at a coffee shop Prim recommended. Fortunately, Love had adapted quickly to human routines, riding the bus, navigating streets, things that once felt foreign to her now came with ease.

 

When she arrived, the shop was quiet, the post-lunch haze settling in. Afternoon light spilled lazily through the window where Prim sat, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She glanced up at Love and offered a small nod, an unspoken invitation. Love slid into the seat opposite her. Without asking, Prim signaled for another drink, ordering something for her.

 

“Do you know—?” Love began, her voice cautious, testing. She needed to know if Prim truly understood who she was.

 

Prim’s lips curved in a knowing smile, and she gave a slow nod.

 

“How?” Love asked, though she already had a suspicion.

 

“I heard you,” Prim said simply. “The voice only our kind can hear. At first, I thought I was hallucinating then I saw you. The voice was coming from you.”

 

“You’re a mer—” Love stopped herself, darting a glance around the shop. No one seemed to be paying attention, but she lowered her voice all the same.

 

“Half,” Prim corrected.

 

“Half mermaid… half human?” Love’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

 

Prim chuckled softly, as though amused by her awe, and nodded again.

 

“I’ve only heard of stories,” Love admitted, leaning in. “About… someone like you.”

 

“Now you’re looking at one.”

 

“So… you came here too? From the sea?” Love asked, curiosity tugging at her words.

 

Prim shook her head. “No. I lived here my whole life.”

 

Love’s chest tightened, not with fear, but envy. To move between worlds. To belong in both. To belong where Milk lives.

 

“My mother was a mermaid,” Prim continued, her voice softening. “My father was human. They met, fell in love, and then… there was me.” Her gaze faltered, and for a moment, pain flickered in her eyes. “My father’s gone for years. And my mother—” She stopped, pressing her lips together.

 

“She went back to the sea?” Love guessed quietly.

 

Prim didn’t answer—at least, not aloud. Her silence said enough.

 

Then, as if pushing away her own memories, Prim straightened, her tone shifting. “Enough about me. I want to know about you. Why did you come here? Where are you living now? Do you have someone you trust?”

 

“Yes. Her name is Milk. I live with her.”

 

“Does she know?”

 

“No—not yet.”

 

“Do you trust her?”

 

“With my life.”

 

 

 

Milk knew something was different. It was too quiet. Her phone had been silent all day and that wasn’t normal. Usually, by this time, her inbox would be flooded with messages:

 

How’s your day?

Have you eaten?

Are you coming home soon?

 

Or sometimes just random strings of emojis or blurry pictures of whatever caught Love’s eye.

 

She never hated it. In fact, she had grown used to that constant buzz of presence, the clinginess in person now spilling into texts. And even when she didn’t reply right away, it comforted her, knowing Love was always reaching out.

 

But today? Nothing. No random pictures. No emojis. Not even a typo-filled messages.

 

It wasn’t normal.

 

Milk sat at her desk at work, staring at her phone. Her fingers hovered over Love’s name, her thumb twitching as if it might press call on its own. After a long pause, she finally did.

 

Love’s phone was unattended.

 

Her chest tightened.

 

What if something happened to her?

 

She shook her head. Maybe the phone just died. Maybe Love forgot to charge it. But the unease didn’t leave her.

 

She messaged Namtan, Film, even Fourth—anyone who might’ve seen Love. No one had.

 

Her worry tipped into action. She opened the GPS tracker she’d quietly installed in Love’s phone when she gifted it to her. The last location pinged from a coffee shop she didn’t recognize.

 

What was she doing there?

 

By the time Milk arrived at the coffee shop, Love was gone.

 

She went straight home, earlier than usual. The smell of cooking greeted her before she even stepped inside.

 

Love turned from the stove, eyes lighting up instantly. “You’re early!”

 

Milk’s expression stayed unreadable. She walked past her, set her bag down, and sat on the couch, watching. “Did you go anywhere earlier?” she asked, voice casual… too casual.

 

Love froze, her hand tightening slightly around the spoon. Milk’s gaze was steady, quietly waiting.

 

“I did,” Love said slowly. “I met… with someone.”

 

Someone. Who might that be?

 

“A friend?” Love didn’t answer which added to the list of questions Milk had in mind for Love.

 

“Do you know her?” Milk asked again.

 

“Kind of.” Plain and simple, Love answered. Obvious that she was hiding something.

 

Milk let out a long sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Love… you can’t just trust anyone here. People can be deceiving in ways you won’t see until it’s too late.”

 

The words landed heavier than Milk intended. For a brief moment, Love wondered— was she the deceiving one? Would Milk hate her if she knew the truth?

 

“You didn’t even tell me where you were going,” Milk added, her voice softening into something that sounded almost like a sulk.

 

“I tried to call you.” Milk added.

 

Love pointed to her phone charging near the couch, “I forgot to charge it earlier. I’m sorry.”

 

Milk just looked at her. As if weighing the next words she’s about to say. She didn’t say anything anymore. She sat at the table waiting for Love to finish cooking.

 

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you earlier?”

 

“No.”

 

“You look mad.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll tell you first.”

 

Milk rolled her eyes when she heard the word “next time.” She didn’t even understand herself why she was acting this way. It’s not like Love was her prisoner. And no, she’s not jealous… absolutely not. She sees Love as her responsibility, that’s all. It couldn’t be more than that. Even if the thumping in her chest told otherwise.

 

 

And it kept happening just as Milk expected it would. Love continued meeting Prim. Coffee shops, unfamiliar restaurants, quiet corners of the city Milk had never stepped foot in.

 

And every time Milk checked the tracker she put on Love’s phone, one name echoed in her mind—Prim. Love have already mentioned her name, when she informed to meet her again.

 

“The more I try to get to know her, the more I realize I know nothing about her. Isn’t it ironic?” Milk muttered as she leaned over Namtan’s counter, watching her best friend wipe it spotless like it was the most important task in the world.

 

Namtan arched a brow. “She still hasn’t told you anything?”

 

“Nothing. All I know is her name. No family. No history. Not even the smallest clue of where she came from. And considering how clueless she was when I first met her, I’m seriously starting to think your ‘alien’ theory might not be too far off.”

 

Namtan chuckled, but her eyes stayed sharp. “And this new friend? The one she’s always running off to meet?”

 

“Prim?” Milk’s mouth twisted around the name. “Yeah. I don’t know anything about her either. Every time Love is with her, I check the GPS. And guess what? They’re always somewhere far. Somewhere out of the way.”

 

Namtan stopped polishing, giving Milk a pointed look. “So… why don’t you follow her?”

 

Milk scoffed. “What? Like a stalker? No.”

 

“Milk.” Namtan leaned forward on the counter, voice firm. “If she won’t tell you anything, then maybe you need to stop waiting for answers and start finding them yourself. You’ve been living together for what, two months now? And you still don’t know who she really is?”

 

Milk’s lips parted, but no words came. The truth of Namtan’s statement settled in her chest like a stone. She had been waiting. Waiting for Love to trust her, to share something—anything.

 

 

 

Love trailed closely behind Prim, her curious eyes roaming the wide, gleaming corridors of the building. The walls were lined with windows that stretched from ceiling to floor, giving her an almost seamless view of the city. Their office were full of traces of marine life and ocean.

 

There were aquariums that decorated nearly every corner. Schools of colorful fish swam past the glass, and soft lights danced across the marble floor like reflections of the ocean itself.

 

The place smelled faintly of salt and clean water, a reminder of the sea Love once called home. For a fleeting moment, her chest ached.

 

Prim walked ahead with confident steps, her heels clicking against the polished tiles. Love’s gaze shifted to every detail, the coral structures displayed in glass cases, the quiet hum of filtration systems, the faint echo of water rushing. This wasn’t just any building, it was alive.

 

“This way,” Prim said with a small smile, holding open a door at the end of the corridor.

 

Love stepped inside and was greeted by an office that felt more like a sanctuary than a workplace. A wide window revealed an enormous tank beyond, filled with stingrays gliding gracefully alongside silver fish. On one side of the office, a shelf was stacked with marine biology books and old journals, on the other, small trinkets like shells, stones, and sketches… hinted at Prim’s personal connection to the sea.

 

Love’s hand brushed against the edge of a desk covered in documents and photographs. Research papers. Diagrams of ocean currents. Maps marked with places Love vaguely recognized.

 

“This is where I work,” Prim explained, moving to set her bag down. Her voice carried both pride and weariness. “It’s not just a job for me. It’s… how I stay close to other part of my life.”

 

Love’s eyes lingered once more. The sight filled her with a mixture of wonder. “Feels like the ocean is here too,” she whispered, almost to herself.

 

Prim glanced at her, lips curving into something soft and knowing. “Exactly. That’s why I brought you. You’ll understand.”

 

“Have you ever stayed in the sea?” Love asked, her voice barely above the soft bubbling of the aquarium filters.

 

Prim leaned back against her desk, arms crossed loosely. “I only go there for work—dives, research, recovery missions. But never to stay.”

 

“Why?” Love tilted her head, curiosity shining in her eyes. She was about to press further when something flickered in her memory—Prim’s mother. The way she avoided speaking of her last time. Love’s lips parted, then quickly closed. She swallowed instead, the unspoken answer weighing heavy. “I’m… sorry.”

 

Prim’s smile was faint, fragile, but not bitter. “It’s okay. Half-humans aren’t exactly welcome under the sea. To them, someone like me is… a reminder. A mistake. Proof of a betrayal.“

 

Love’s gaze softened, her chest tightening at the quiet ache in Prim’s voice. “Not to me. Your kind… you remind me that love knows no bounds. Whether you’re human or merfolk, it shouldn’t matter.”

 

Prim exhaled slowly, as if Love’s words pierced a part of her she had long hidden away. Without replying, she gestured toward the couch at the corner of her office. “Sit. You should be comfortable.” She set a steaming cup of tea before Love, its calming fragrance filling the air.

 

“There are still so many things you don’t know, Love,” Prim continued, her tone shifting, steady and deliberate. “The world of humans. The world of the sea. The rules. The dangers. But don’t worry. I’ll help you understand them.”

 

Love nodded and clasped the warm cup in her hands, staring down into the swirling surface as though answers might rise from it. “Do you know other merfolks?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve met few merfolks.”

 

“Where are they now?”

 

Prim hesitated. Her eyes drifted toward the massive tank outside her window, where a stingray glided past like a shadow. “They’re not here anymore.”

 

Love’s heart thudded. “What happened to them?”

 

Prim’s lips parted, then pressed shut again. Her eyes clouded with something—grief, guilt, maybe even fear. She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her gaze away, her silence speaking louder than words.

 

And then, Love felt a shiver, sharp and uninvited, crawling up her spine. She tried to shake it off, lowering her gaze as she leaned forward to set the cup down on the small glass table between them. But her hands, unsteady from the unease in her chest, betrayed her.

 

The porcelain tilted.

 

A gasp slipped from her lips as the tea spilled over the rim, the liquid cascading onto Prim’s lap and soaking into the fabric of her slacks.

 

“I—I’m so sorry!” Love’s voice wavered as she scrambled to grab the napkins from the tray on the side table. She pressed them forward in a flurry of nervousness, her eyes wide with panic.

 

“It’s fine,” Prim said softly, her voice calm, steady. Her lips lifted in a faint, almost teasing smile.

 

Love waited. Seconds stretched into minutes, her eyes glued to Prim’s legs, anticipation tightening in her chest. But nothing happened, no shimmer of scales, no sudden shift of flesh into fin. Just the damp fabric clinging to Prim’s legs.

 

Her brows furrowed. “Wait… how? Why didn’t you—?” She left the question unfinished, confusion etched on her face.

 

Prim chuckled softly, dabbing at the spill with the napkin Love had handed her. “Halfs don’t transform just because of liquids,” she explained patiently. “Tea, coffee, tap water… it doesn’t affect me. And since the ocean was indirectly part of rain formation, rain can affect me too only if I’m exposed long enough. So, It has to be seawater. That’s the only trigger strong enough to awaken what’s buried inside.”

 

Love blinked, absorbing the words as though they were precious. The tension in her shoulders loosened, her lips parting with a small “oh” of understanding. Slowly, she nodded, her gaze filled with something close to wonder.

 

Prim smiled faintly at her expression. “You’re like a child hearing bedtime stories for the first time,” she teased gently. Then, with a softer tone, she added, “Don’t worry, Love. You’ll learn more. Piece by piece. I’ll help you understand everything.”

 

 

 

Milk sat on the couch, her legs curled up beneath her, eyes fixed on the clock as the seconds ticked by. Normally, it was Love who waited for her, always by the window, or curled on the couch with that eager smile. But tonight, the roles were reversed. Tonight, it was Milk who sat waiting, restless and uneasy.

 

“What’s taking her so long?” she muttered under her breath, drumming her fingers against the armrest.

 

Namtan’s words echoed in her head. “ Follow her. Maybe then you’ll get your answers.” Milk had almost given in to that temptation earlier. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be sitting here now, drowning in questions she couldn’t shake off. What are you hiding from me, Love? Who are you really?

 

But in the end, she didn’t. She stayed. She waited.

 

The low hum of an approaching car snapped her out of her thoughts. Moments later, she heard a voice—Love’s voice, soft and cheerful, carried from the street below. Curiosity pricked at her, and she rose, stepping quietly to the window.

 

Love wasn’t alone. Prim drove her home.

 

Milk’s brows furrowed as she watched the unfamiliar car parked just outside their building, Prim behind the wheel. And then… the hug. Love leaning in, Prim wrapping her arms around her like they were more than friends, like they were reluctant to part ways even after spending the whole day together.

 

Milk didn’t step outside. She didn’t make a sound. She just stood there, hidden behind the curtain, her eyes burning as she forced herself to keep watching.

 

By the time Love walked through the door, Milk was already back on the couch, her face carefully unreadable. “You’re late,” she said flatly, the words heavier than they should have been.

 

Love froze, blinking at her. “Milk… did you wait for me? Have you eaten already?”

 

Milk didn’t answer. Her stomach was hollow, hunger gnawing at her. She rose without another word and walked past Love, shutting herself in her room.

 

Love remained in the living room, the weight of Milk’s silence pressing against her chest. Something had shifted, sharp enough for her to feel it. She just didn’t know what it was.

 

In bed, as Milk lay staring at the ceiling, the faint aroma of something cooking drifted into her room. Love was in the kitchen, preparing dinner even though it was late, even though Milk had shut her out.

 

Milk turned on her side, burying her face into the pillow. She told herself she wouldn’t go, she wouldn’t answer. But then, a soft knock echoed against her door, hesitant and tender.

 

“Milk?” Love’s voice came, muffled but gentle. “I made something for you.”

 

“If you don’t open… I’ll stay here all night. Even if I fall asleep. I don’t care if the floor is cold. I just… I can’t stand it when you’re upset with me.”

 

Milk’s eyes shot open. Her heart lurched painfully at those words. She turned toward the door instinctively, torn between pride and worry. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed aside the blanket and strode to the door. The sight that greeted her nearly pinched her heart… Love, holding her favorite korean spicy noodles.

 

“Love…” Milk’s voice softened without her meaning to.

 

Love lifted her head slowly, her eyes widening when she saw Milk.

 

The two of them ate quietly after that, not the awkward silence from before, but a gentle one. Every so often, Milk would sneak a glance at Love, and every so often, Love would glance back, their eyes meeting in fleeting moments that said far more than either of them dared to put into words. No one asked a question, they just sat across each other, ate noodles, and tried not to get caught glancing at each other.

 

 

 

Back in her bed after their dinner, Milk stirred awake to the echo of waves crashing in her ears, as though the sea itself had followed her into the quiet of her room. The dream lingered, sharper than before. She saw her again, the woman from the water, but this time her features weren’t as blurred as before. They were almost clear, almost too real to dismiss.

 

And Milk knew, deep down, this wasn’t just some dream. No. It happened. It was real. Like a fragment of memory trying to find it’s way back to her. She could feel the chill of saltwater clinging to her skin, the way her heart pounded as though she’d actually been pulled beneath the tide.

 

But what unsettled her most wasn’t the sea or the mysterious woman—it was the familiar figure she remembered, shimmering like a secret between the waves.

 

Love .

 

Milk sat up, clutching her chest as the realization sank deeper.

 

Could it be…?

 

Her lips trembled, her thoughts running wild. If Love was truly the figure she saw in her dream, then the truth she had been waiting for wasn’t just hidden it was something far greater, far stranger, than she ever imagined.

 

And the more Milk thought about it, the heavier her chest felt, torn between confusion… and the ache of wanting to know more. Because now it’s getting clear…

 

What if Love was the one who saved her?

 

 

Notes:

Sorry for the late update, I made a lot of revisions to this chapter.

See you on the next one! :)

Chapter 9: Fragments

 

The dreams kept returning, relentless as the tide. Each one crashing into her sleep like waves upon the shore. At first, they came in fragments, blurred edges and fleeting shadows, but slowly, they began stitching themselves together. Clearer. And the clearer they became, the more Milk’s certainty solidified.

 

The woman in her dreams was Love. The one who had saved her life that day.

 

What unsettled her more wasn’t just the recognition… it was the truth her heart whispered every time the dream replayed. Deep down, Milk was beginning to believe what her mind couldn’t grasp—Love was different. Not just different in the way she acted, not just odd or mysterious… but something far beyond human.

 

She had seen it in her dreams. The glimmer of scales. The outline of a tail glistening beneath the water. The impossible made real. At first, Milk couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She told herself it was just her mind playing tricks, tangled between reality and the remnants of a dream. Maybe she had been too tired, too stressed, or maybe her brain was having trouble drawing the line between what was real and what wasn’t.

 

But the more she tried to dismiss it, the harder it became. The details were too vivid, too sharp to be brushed off as fantasy. The way the water had shimmered, the outline of a tail gliding through the dark, and the warmth of hands that had held her when she was drowning. She remembered now. It wasn’t the kind of memory that easily faded.

 

And Love… she carried those same shadows with the woman in her dreams. The same warmth, the same familiarity. It was like seeing pieces of a puzzle slowly clicking together. Her heart warred with her mind. One part of her clung to logic, telling herself it was impossible, that mermaids belonged only in folklore and stories. But another part whispered truths she couldn’t silence… the dreams weren’t dreams at all. They were memories. Fragments of something real, something her mind had buried deep.

 

And if that was true, then Love wasn’t who she seemed.

 

Yet Milk couldn’t bring herself to confront Love about it. She already knew what would happen. Love would deflect, retreat behind her usual silence, eyes turning away as if the answers were too heavy to give.

 

So instead, she chose a quieter method. She was careful, deliberate, watching without letting Love notice. She told herself it wasn’t spying, just… paying attention. But deep down, she knew she was searching for answers. And soon, she started seeing things she had ignored before. Or maybe, things she had chosen not to see.

 

Love’s strength, for one. It didn’t match her frame. Milk had seen her lift heavy boxes with ease, carry things that would normally take two people without even breaking a sweat. She moved too quickly sometimes, with a grace that didn’t fit her clumsy, childlike curiosity. And she will never forget how Love fought Greg before, her strength was unmatched.

 

Then there was her perspective, her way of looking at the world as though every corner was new, every sound seems a discovery. The awe in her eyes when she saw ordinary things, the way she lingered on details others would overlook, like a tourist in a place she didn’t quite belong.

 

Milk used to tell herself it was just Love’s personality. Naive, curious, maybe sheltered. But the more she looked, the more it felt like Love wasn’t just new to the city.

 

It was like she was new to this world entirely .

 

And that thought alone made Milk’s heart pound harder than she wanted to admit. Love wasn’t like them. Love wasn’t like anyone. And if Milk was right… she wasn’t sure if she should be afraid.

 

 

 

She never imagined she’d reach a point in her life where she’d walk into a public library searching for books about mermaids. Yet here she was, standing among rows of shelves that smelled faintly of dust and paper. The internet had been useless, filled with myths, scattered blogs, and stories dressed as fairytales. Nothing solid. Nothing that could give her the certainty she craved.

 

If she wanted answers, real answers, she’d have to dig deeper.

 

She wandered between aisles labeled Mythology, Folklore, and different studies, her eyes skimming the spines of books that ranged from scientific studies to fantastical tales. The absurdity of it all struck her— what am I even doing? If Namtan or anyone else saw her now, they’d laugh, maybe even question her sanity.

 

But the dreams… the fragments that stitched themselves together night after night, they weren’t just dreams. She knew they weren’t. And the woman at the center of it all, the woman who saved her, looked far too much like Love for it to be coincidence.

 

Milk pulled out a thick, leather-bound book, its cover etched with faded gold letters: Legends of the Deep Ocean. She tucked it under her arm, then grabbed another, The Hidden Folk of the Deep. Each title felt like another step closer to either the truth… or madness.

 

 

“Long, shimmering tails…”

 

“Mermaids, mermen, merfolk…”

 

“Stronger, faster than humans…”

 

“Capable of luring humans with their charm…”

 

 

Milk’s eyes moved line by line, her breath caught in her throat. Everything she read, every trait, every description painted the same picture, and almost all of it led back to Love.

 

Her pulse quickened as she turned another brittle page. The words seemed to leap out at her.

 

“They possess the ability to tamper with human memory—erasing fragments, altering recollections, sometimes even entire events—through nothing more than a touch.”

 

Milk froze. Her hand hovered over the page. Reading the phrase over and over again.

 

Erase memories.

 

The thought rang in her head like a bell, sharp and insistent.

 

It explained too much why her dreams felt more like deja vu than fantasy, why the sea whispered to her in flashes of familiarity, why Love always looked at her with something unreadable in her eyes like she knew something.

 

She swallowed hard. Her hands pressed onto the book cover, as if to ground herself. But deep inside, the unease grew. Because if the book was true, then Love not only carried secrets, she might also hold the pieces of Milk’s memories, the ones that had been stolen from her.

 

And the only thing left to do… is to prove everything. To see it with her own eyes.

 

 

 

Prim leaned back against her desk, arms folded, watching Love move around her office with ease. “Do you plan on telling her?”

 

Love froze mid-step, fingers brushing against a folder she wasn’t even reading. “I—I don’t know how yet. And besides…” She turned, her voice softer, uncertain. “How do you think humans will react if they find out mermaids are real?”

 

Prim let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “From what I’ve seen? Not well. I’m not saying every human is the same, but fear… sometimes greed runs deeper than curiosity. Some can’t handle what they don’t understand, and what they don’t understand—they destroy.”

 

Love bit her lip. “Milk is different. But… I still need time.”

 

Prim’s gaze hardened. “Time doesn’t erase secrets, Love. You can’t keep hiding forever. The truth has a way of surfacing, whether you’re ready or not.”

 

“What about you? You’re a mermaid too. Are you not afraid too?”

 

“It’s easier for me to blend. I’m also human, remember? Besides, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

 

Love nodded. “You said you’ve met others before, other merfolks. From what I’ve heard, it’s been generation since anyone’s left the sea.”

 

Prim tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure about that? You really think merfolks don’t hide things from each other too?”

Love stilled. The possibility cut deeper than she expected.

 

“Your leaders don’t tell you everything.” Prim continued, her voice carrying a heavy certainty. “They hide them from you so no one else dares follow. It’s control. And they inflict fear too. Plain and simple.”

 

Love’s gaze dropped to the floor, her thoughts tangled like seaweed caught in the current. Prim’s words echoed inside her chest, heavy and unsettling, until she could no longer meet the other woman’s eyes.

 

“Why did you come here, Love?” Love pressed her lips together, choosing silence over the truth.

 

“It’s Milk, isn’t it?” Her heart jolted. She didn’t respond, but her silence gave Prim all the answer she needed.

 

Prim sighed, straightening her posture. “You shouldn’t have come here. You’ve put yourself at risk the moment you stepped out of the sea. Do you realize what you’re doing? Humans—” she leaned closer, her voice firm, “—are greedy. They take what they want, and once they know what you are, you’ll never be free again.”

 

Love’s brows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

 

Prim’s gaze darkened, her words measured like each one carried the weight of truth she’d seen firsthand. “I’m saying the sea isn’t the only place you have to be afraid of. Out here… danger wears many faces. Curiosity, kindness, even love. Humans wrap them all up so beautifully, but beneath it lies the same hunger.“

 

Love’s throat tightened, the image of Milk flashing in her mind. Milk’s smile. Milk’s warmth. “No,” Love whispered, shaking her head. “Milk isn’t like that. She’s different.”

 

Prim didn’t argue, but the silence that followed was louder than any protest. It carried doubt, a shadow that made Love’s chest ache as she realized… Prim wasn’t warning her for nothing.

 

“You can’t stay here, Love. You should return to the sea as soon as possible.” Prim pressed, as though she were trying to seal the warning into Love’s mind.

 

But Love’s chest grew heavier with every word. She didn’t want to hear it anymore. The doubts, the shadows, the fear that Prim tried to plant inside her. She forced a polite smile, though her heart was unsettled, and quietly said her goodbye. She was already halfway to the door when Prim’s voice followed her, sharper, heavier than before.

 

“Be careful, Love.”

 

Love stopped in her tracks, the sound of her name carrying a weight that made her breath hitch. She turned slightly, her eyes meeting Prim’s grave expression.

 

“They’re coming for you too.” Prim continued, her words deliberate. “It’s not a question of if. It’s only a matter of when.”

 

“Who’s they?”

 

The air between them thickened. Love wanted to know who they were, but the tone of Prim’s voice made her chest tighten. Prim didn’t answer. So Love walked away in silence, but the words clung to her like a curse she couldn’t shake.

 

 

 

When Love stepped inside the apartment, she was greeted by the faint aroma of garlic and soy sauce lingering through the air. Milk stood by the stove, carefully stirring the pan, her expression distant, as though her mind was drifting somewhere far away.

Love quietly approached, watching her for a moment. The way Milk’s shoulders slumped and her movements slowed down spoke louder than words.

 

“Milk?” She finally spoke softly.

 

Milk flinched at the sound, her spoon clattering lightly against the pan as she jolted. She quickly composed herself, forcing a small smile over her shoulder.

 

“You scared me.” she said, trying to sound light.

 

“Sorry.” Love tilted her head, concern clear in her gaze. “Are you okay?”

 

Milk hesitated, her fingers tightening on the spoon before answering. “Yeah. Just… tired, that’s all.”

 

But Love could see it wasn’t just fatigue. There was something hidden beneath her words, something heavier.

 

She lingered for a moment longer, debating whether to press or let it go. In the end, she simply stepped closer, offering to help with the cooking. Yet deep inside, both of them were carrying thoughts they weren’t ready to share.

 

The sound of cutlery against the plates was the only sound that filled the room, until Love finally broke the heavy silence. “Is there something bothering you?” Her voice was gentle, almost tentative. She couldn’t stand how quiet the night had become.

 

Milk exhaled slowly, setting her spoon down before answering. “I just… missed my dad. It’s his death anniversary soon.” Her tone was steady, but there was a weight behind it. While it was the truth, it wasn’t the whole of what had been bothering her these past days.

 

Love softened, leaning forward slightly. “Do you wanna talk about him?”

 

At first, Milk hesitated. The lump in her throat made it difficult to answer. But after a moment, she decided to share letting the memories spill out. She spoke of her father’s warmth, his laughter that used to fill their home, and the patience he had in teaching her the little things in life.

 

“He always encouraged me to swim,” Milk said, a faint smile tugging at her lips at the memory. “He even taught me himself. But no matter how hard he tried… I just couldn’t overcome the fear of deep waters.”

 

Love tilted her head, her curiosity genuine. “Why are you afraid?”

 

Milk’s fingers tightened around her spoon, her eyes lowered. “Because… I don’t know what’s in it. I don’t know what hides beneath the deep.” Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken.

 

Love’s hand stilled over her plate, her gaze fixed on Milk with a sudden intensity. She didn’t reply right away. She knew Milk was talking about water, about her fear of depth, but to Love, it felt like it meant something deeper.

 

Milk realized it too. Her own words echoed in her chest, a quiet realization… there were far more things hidden beneath the sea than she ever dared to imagine, truths she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

 

After dinner, Love gathered the plates and set them aside, while Milk quietly reached for the photo albums hidden in her cabinet. She slid into the couch beside Love.

 

“Wanna see him?” Milk asked softly. Love leaned closer, curious, but the moment her eyes fell on photos, her body went rigid.

 

The man in the picture smiled warmly, his arm draped over a much younger Milk. His eyes shone with kindness, his presence radiating strength and gentleness.

 

But for Love… her chest tightened. Her breath hitched. Her blood seemed to run cold. “Th—that’s your father?” she whispered, her voice trembled.

 

Milk nodded with a faint smile, brushing her fingers over the photo like it was something fragile. “Yeah. That’s him.”

 

Love couldn’t speak. Her thoughts scattered, crashing into each other like waves in a storm. She had seen that face before… not here, but somewhere else. Somewhere tied to the sea. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, fighting to keep her reaction hidden.

 

Milk didn’t notice, her eyes still lost in the past. “He would’ve liked you, you know. Sometimes you remind me of him, you have the same warmth as him.”

 

Love’s lips trembled, the smile faltering completely. Her chest tightened at Milk’s words.

 

“Wh—what happened to him?” Love asked, her voice barely steady.

 

Milk’s eyes dimmed as she looked down at the photo again. Her voice was soft, threaded with grief that hadn’t faded with time. “He was a fisherman. He went out to sea that morning, just like he always did. But… he never came back.” She swallowed hard, blinking fast as if to push back the heaviness in her eyes. “Weeks passed before they found his boat. Wrecked… torn apart, just drifting aimlessly in the waves. But no sign of him. We never found his body.”

 

She drew in a shaky breath, clutching the album tighter. “Some people said he was swallowed by the sea, dragged down by the waves. Others… they whispered it was something else, something in the deep.” Her words trailed off, heavy with an unspoken fear.

 

“I was only fourteen when it happened… almost eleven years now,” Milk whispered, her eyes softening with memories she still carried like fresh wounds.

 

Love’s hands curled tight against her knees, nails biting into her skin as if that would steady her. Inside, her chest felt as though it were collapsing. That face, that man… Milk’s father. The sea hadn’t simply taken him, it was something else. Something Love didn’t have the courage to admit aloud.

 

Milk’s gaze drifted toward the photo again. “He was all I had,” she continued, her voice cracking with the weight of truth. “My mother passed away when I was three. Too young to even remember her face clearly. It’s always just been the two of us, me and my dad. He raised me, loved me more than enough for two parents.” Her lips trembled as she smiled faintly at the photo. “When he was gone, I didn’t know how to keep going. My aunt was the one who took me in, moved me here to the city, gave me a new start. But no matter what, it never filled the space he left behind.”

 

Love lowered her gaze, her throat tightening with unspoken words. Guilt twisted inside her. The truth of what lurked in the depths… what might have really happened… she feared would break Milk’s heart even more than it already was. And yet, sitting across from her now, Love wanted more than anything to reach out, to tell her everything… about the sea, about what her father’s disappearance might truly mean. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

 

 

Later that night, Love unclipped the small pouch tied around her waist, the only thing she had carried with her from the sea to the land, a piece she never let go of ever since she got it. She carefully opened the pouch, and inside lay a silver necklace shaped like a koy fish, its edges glimmering faintly under the dim light. She held it in her palm, running her thumb over the familiar design, as if the touch alone could bring her back to the memory of how she got the necklace.

 

A huge pang hit her chest.

 

“Milk… I’m sorry…”