You Return, I Return

The elevator halted on the apartment floor. Layla and Emma’s footsteps echoed along the corridor until they reached Ailine’s unit. Owen carried her small suitcase, while Emma had been holding back laughter ever since the “driver as handsome as Doctor Owen” incident at the airport.

“Well then, I’ll head home. You need plenty of rest,” Layla reminded her, raising an eyebrow toward Owen. “Use those two cancelled vacation days to sleep. And you—” she glanced at Owen, “—make sure Ailine doesn’t do anything strenuous.”

Owen answered with a quiet nod.

“If you ever change your mind and want to become an actor, call me! I can even rival you against Julian Feng!”

“I’m not interested.”

“You may change your mind someday.”

“I will not change it next time either.”

Emma laughed, and so did Ailine.

“Manager Layla, give it up! That’s completely pointless!”

“Owen’s passion is saving lives as a medical professional. Don’t disturb him!” Ailine added. “Now go, both of you!”

“Tch, we’re being kicked out just because someone wants to be alone with Dr. Owen!”

“Exactly, so hurry and leave, you troublemakers!”

“Ihh, Miss Ailine didn’t deny it! You’re far too confident!”

Ailine only winked as she ‘shooed’ the two away.

Finally, Layla and Emma chose to leave. They waved before walking off.

“Rest well, Ailine. I’m heading home too. Doctor Owen, take care of her, all right?”

“Yes,” Owen replied simply.

Once the door closed and silence wrapped the living room, Ailine realized the space felt much larger when it was just the two of them. She hung her bag, removed her mask, and exhaled softly.

“Are you hungry?” Owen asked when he noticed her hand naturally resting on her stomach.

“A little,” she admitted. “I was too lazy to get food during the transit.”

Owen let out a short, rare laugh. “Then I’ll cook.”

Ailine frowned. “There’s nothing in my fridge. I’m sure the only thing left is… eggs.”

“Wait here. I’ll go buy something.”

“No! That’ll take too long!”
In truth, she simply didn’t want their time together to decrease.

“…Very well. We’ll use whatever you have.”

He walked toward the fridge with the expression of a doctor checking his daily patient list. He opened it—and indeed: several eggs, a bottle of water, and two expired sauce sachets.

“See? Only eggs. Should we just order takeout? But… I miss your cooking.”

“It’s fine.” Owen closed the fridge again. “An omelet is enough. What matters is that you eat.”

Ailine froze for a moment. He always offered to cook whenever he visited her apartment. And when he walked into the kitchen—calm yet precise—something inside her loosened.

“Do you need help?” she asked.

“No. Sit down.”
His tone was gentle but firm. “You just landed. Rest first.”

Ailine obeyed. She sat on the barstool, resting her chin on her arms. From there she could watch him crack eggs, whisk them, sprinkle salt, then fry them with the concentration of someone performing a minor surgery.

“You’re making it look like a medical procedure,” she teased.

“That’s because I want you to eat something proper.”

“That simple?”

“That simple. You need to eat enough,” he replied, giving her a brief glance. His gaze was soft—soft in that unique Owen way: no theatrics, no exaggeration, yet enough to make her chest tighten.

The omelet was done in minutes. Owen placed it on a plate and handed it to her.

“Here.”

Ailine took her fork. She barely took a bite before the warmth and aroma made her stomach let out a thankful protest.

“It’s good,” she praised.

“It’s just eggs.”

“But it’s still good.”

She smiled, and this time Owen couldn’t help returning it.

They ate in comfortable silence. Sometimes Ailine stole glances. Owen still wore his black hoodie, his hair slightly messy from the day. His eyes looked tired—yet there was a quiet glow each time he looked at her, as if… he missed her too.

After cleaning her lips with a tissue, Ailine asked, “You’re not eating?”

“I already ate at the hospital.”

“Thank you, Owen.” Her voice softened. “You didn’t have to trouble yourself just because I said I missed your cooking. You could’ve refused.”

“I don’t find it troublesome,” Owen replied honestly. “I came because I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

Warmth spread through her chest—slowly, steadily.

The exhaustion from traveling, the longing built over five days apart, and Owen standing in her kitchen… all of it gathered inside her, creating a tender ache.

“Oh—I almost forgot. I brought something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Wait here.”

She rummaged through her bag until her fingers touched a small velvet pouch. Her expression brightened. She returned to the kitchen and offered it with both hands.

“Here.”

Owen dried his hands and took the pouch gently, as though worried he might damage whatever was inside. When he opened it, his eyes softened—a small silver compass lay within, engraved with a minimalist star motif.

Ailine smiled shyly.

“You once said you easily get lost when you go somewhere unfamiliar… so when I saw this, I thought of you.”

She still remembered that—after ten years?

Owen lifted the compass with his fingertips, observing the engraving as though it was far more valuable than its price.

“You didn’t need to bring me anything,” he murmured.

“I know,” Ailine replied. “But I wanted to.”

Owen’s gaze softened even further—unusually gentle.

“Ailine… this is very thoughtful.”

“You like it?”

“…I do,” he answered without hesitation. “Very much.”

Ailine laughed softly, relieved. “Good. I was afraid you’d say it’s useless.”

“It is not particularly useful,” Owen said flatly, though his tone remained warm. “But I still like it.”

Ailine widened her eyes, placing a hand on her hip.
“Can’t you at least pretend it’s useful?”

“It is useful,” Owen corrected calmly, slipping the compass into his hoodie pocket. “It will remind me to stop getting lost.”

The way he said it—quiet, sincere—made her heart beat faster.

“I’m glad,” she whispered.

They exchanged a long look.

For a moment, the entire apartment felt still, as if the air itself was holding its breath for them.

No words were spoken. Yet Ailine’s pulse raced harder than when she faced paparazzi cameras.

And at that moment, she realized:

If she didn’t say something soon, she would regret it.

---

After finishing their meal and cleaning up, Ailine went to her room to change into a loose home shirt. Owen stayed in the kitchen, tidying the simple utensils he used.

As he dried his hands with a small towel, his phone rang.
The name displayed: “Elliot” — his younger brother.

Owen immediately answered.

“Elliot?”

A cheerful yet slightly hesitant voice came from the other side.

“Bro… sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to say… the semester fee came out. The deadline is in three days. Is it okay if I ask for your help again?”

Owen closed his eyes briefly.
There was a quiet pause—one that only comes from someone forced to hide their exhaustion.

“How much is it?” Owen asked softly.

“Four thousand… it went up because of the extra lab course.”

“All right. I’ll pay it tomorrow.”

“Bro… if it’s too much, I can find a part-time job.”

“No,” Owen replied quickly. “Your only job is to study. Don’t worry about anything else.”

Elliot’s voice carried relief and guilt.

“Thank you… And, um… how’s Mom?”

“The same. No change.”

“…I see. Take care, Bro. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Mm.”

The call ended.

Owen lowered his phone slowly, staring at the kitchen floor. He exhaled—a long breath belonging to a man who had been enduring too much, for too long.

He stared at the phone, as if contemplating something.

But then Ailine called him from the living room—soft, warm, slightly spoiled.

“Owen… what are you doing?”

A faint tremor passed through Owen’s chest.
He turned around. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than usual.

Ailine frowned. “What? Is my outfit strange?”

“No. You look perfect.”

“Tch, you…”
Inside, she was secretly thrilled.
“Oh, right… Owen, my neck is so stiff… probably because of the trip.”

Owen didn’t answer verbally.

He simply walked toward her—steady, calm.

“I noticed earlier,” he murmured, examining her nape. “Sit down for a moment.”

Ailine obeyed and sat on the sofa. Owen stood behind her, gently sweeping her hair aside.

The touch was simple… yet suddenly their two distant worlds felt very close.

His fingers pressed softly on the tense muscles of her neck.

Ailine instinctively closed her eyes, savoring it.

“Mmm… this feels really good…”

Owen said nothing, continuing his slow, precise movements—like he knew exactly where the tension lay.

“I didn’t know you could do this,” she laughed lightly.

“I’m a doctor. At least I know which part is strained.”

His touch grew gentler. Warmth spread through Ailine—from her face, to her chest.
She had something to say… something she had held back for days.

“Owen…”

“Mm?”

“You… made me miss you.”

Owen’s fingers halted—just for a second.

But Ailine felt it.

He resumed, slower this time.

“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured quietly, “or I might misunderstand.”

“Is misunderstanding such a bad thing?”

He didn’t answer.

Because if he did…
he knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself.

Meanwhile, Ailine’s thoughts were clear:

I need to confess tonight. If I don’t, I’ll regret it.

“…”

“Owen…”

“Hm?”

“Let’s… go on a date again.”