I stepped into the hallway and stopped halfway down the stairs.
I could see them now.
Three women sat in the living room with Yuna, all holding glasses of wine. Stylish, confident. Dressed like they were halfway between brunch and a late-night lounge.
One of them—tall, red lipstick, short skirt—noticed me first.
Her eyes lifted, and a grin spread across her lips. "Is that him?"
Yuna looked over her shoulder. "Jae-hyun, this is Hye-jin, Min-seo, and Dana."
The woman in red lipstick raised her glass. "Come down. We don't bite."
"Much," Dana added, smirking behind her glass.
Yuna rolled her eyes but said nothing.
I came down slowly. They were watching every step. Like I was walking into something I hadn't agreed to.
Yuna waved me toward the couch. "You want a drink?"
I nodded. "Sure."
She got up without saying more. I sat down, stiff, trying not to let my eyes wander too obviously.
Min-seo, the quietest of the three, stared at me with sharp eyes. She had the kind of look that cut through small talk and went straight to the part people usually hide.
"You're taller than I thought," she said.
"I get that a lot."
Dana leaned forward, arms pressing against her chest. She was softer, curvier than the other two. "Are you living here long term?"
"Just until I get my own place," I replied.
"Shame," Hye-jin said. "We were just getting used to the idea of Yuna having something interesting in the house."
Yuna returned, handing me a glass. She sat back down, legs crossing slowly, robe shifting just enough to show more skin than was necessary. No one seemed to notice. Or maybe they were used to it.
Conversation drifted toward them. I listened. Half-answered questions. Smiled when I was supposed to. But the entire time, Yuna kept glancing at me from the side, like she was watching how I reacted.
Like she wanted to know how far I'd let the line blur.
By the time I excused myself, my glass was empty, and the air felt thicker.
Yuna didn't stop me. Didn't follow.
But just before I reached the stairs, I heard Hye-jin whisper something I couldn't make out.
Then Yuna laughed.
Back in my room, I shut the door and leaned against it.
They were dangerous—all of them. But Yuna most of all. Because she didn't need to say anything to make you think about her. She just had to look at you. Or not look at you.
Either way, she stayed in your head.
I didn't go back downstairs after I left the living room.
The sounds of their laughter drifted up faintly, soft through the door like the memory of something you weren't really part of. I sat at the edge of my bed with the lights off, staring at the window, my half-empty glass still in my hand.
They were too at ease with each other.
Yuna especially. With her robe slipping casually off one shoulder, her legs stretched out on the couch like she didn't know—or didn't care—what it looked like to someone like me.
It wasn't just physical. It was her vibe. The way she sat at the center of the room, not trying to lead the attention but always drawing it anyway.
She didn't have to say much. She just existed in a way that demanded watching.
I wasn't sure if I hated her for it, or if I just hated how easy it was to notice.
By ten, their voices had thinned out. The front door opened and closed a few times. Heels on tile. A few brief goodbyes.
Then silence.
No more laughter. No more wine glasses clinking. Just the creak of her door shutting again.
I pulled out my phone.
1:16 unread messages. All from group chats I didn't care to answer.
But one DM stood out. Junho.
Junho:
Yo, you dead? Haven't heard from you in days. Don't make me think you're neck-deep in old lady drama lmao.
I smirked, then typed.
Me:
Not dead. Just moved home. Needed a reset.
Junho:
Damn. Reset with the stepmom, huh? That weird?
Me:
A little. She's... not what I expected.
Junho:
Hot?
Me:
Not answering that.
Junho:
Answered it anyway 😏
I rolled my eyes, then called him. He picked up after two rings.
"Bro, I knew you'd call once I poked the bear."
"I'm not the one poking anything," I said.
He laughed. "Yet."
I didn't respond.
He must've sensed the silence because his voice shifted. "Seriously though. You good?"
"Yeah. It's just weird. She's not like a stepmom at all. She's closer to our age than my dad's."
"Which makes her, what… early thirties?"
"Thirty-two."
"Goddamn," Junho muttered. "That's a landmine waiting to go off."
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything. I'm just saying. You live under the same roof with a woman who's probably used to being looked at. And now there's a guy her age living with her who does look."
"I'm not—"
"You are," he cut in. "You don't even have to say it. I know that voice. You're already trying not to think about it, which means you definitely are."
I sighed. "It's not just that."
"What, is she cold?"
"No. That's the problem. She's... aware. Of how she looks. Of the way she talks. It's like everything she does is casual, but just close enough to make you wonder if she's doing it on purpose."
Junho was quiet for a beat. "You ever think she is?"
"I don't want to think about that."
"But you are."
I didn't answer.
"Listen," he said, tone softening. "I know your dad wasn't around much. And yeah, this situation's weird as hell. But don't get pulled into something if you don't know where it's going. Some people flirt just to feel seen. That doesn't mean they want anything. You feel me?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah."
He paused. "Still. That's hot, though."
I laughed despite myself. "Shut up."
After the call, I lay back and stared at the ceiling. I could hear faint music again, this time softer. Yuna's room. Maybe she was unwinding. Maybe she wasn't even thinking about me.
Maybe that made it worse.
The tension wasn't in what she said. It was in the space between us. The way her body lingered in a room even after she left. The way she looked at me when I thought she wasn't.
Every detail was stuck in my head now. How she tucked her hair behind her ear. How her legs crossed, how the robe slipped higher every time she shifted her weight.
I hated how easy it was to remember all of it.
I grabbed my controller and turned on the console, hoping a game would help. Something dumb and loud. I queued into a match, put on my headset, and tried to disappear into muscle memory.
Halfway through the second round, I got voice chat from some random teammate arguing with a guy who missed his role.
The yelling helped, weirdly.
I didn't think about Yuna when people were swearing and throwing grenades. That was a relief.
The match ended, and I queued again.
Then again.
Anything to stretch the night longer.
Anything to keep me from wondering what she was doing behind that closed door.