A Tender Kiss

Ailine closed her eyes for a brief moment, her hand still resting on Owen’s shoulder. Her heartbeat was uneven, racing in a chaotic rhythm—an entanglement of anxiety, worry, and a longing she had suppressed for far too long. The cold night air seeped through her jacket, sharp and biting, yet the warmth of Owen’s body beside her felt grounding, almost soothing, as if it were the only stable thing in a world that had been collapsing around them.

Slowly, carefully, Ailine shifted her hand from his shoulder to his cheek. Her fingertips brushed his skin with a gentleness that felt almost reverent. Her hand trembled slightly, betraying her nerves, but she held her breath and lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.

Those eyes—tired, reddened, shadowed by sleepless nights and unspoken grief—looked back at her with a sharpness that had never truly faded. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with them. The silence thickened, heavy and intimate, saying far more than words ever could.

“…Owen…” Ailine whispered, her voice hoarse but sincere, as though speaking his name alone required courage.

Owen swallowed hard, forcing himself not to move too quickly, not to shatter the fragile balance between them. Warmth, longing, and a deep, aching pain collided in his chest—as if Ailine’s presence had opened a dam he had spent years building to keep everything contained.

She leaned closer, inch by inch, careful not to rush him, careful not to overwhelm. She didn’t want to demand anything from him. She only wanted him to feel her presence—to know that she was there, that she wasn’t leaving. Her lips moved closer to his, hesitant yet resolute.

At first, it was nothing more than a feather-light touch, almost experimental, as though she were asking a question rather than making a statement. But slowly, Ailine closed the distance, pressing her lips to his with deliberate tenderness. She kissed him softly, cautiously, as if afraid that one wrong move might break the moment beyond repair.

Owen froze.

Surprise flashed through him, sharp and disorienting—but it quickly softened. Gradually, he allowed himself to absorb the warmth of that kiss, to acknowledge the emotions it stirred deep within him.

It wasn’t an ordinary romantic kiss. It carried the weight of restrained longing, the ache of guilt seeking redemption, and an unspoken confession—that despite everything, they still needed each other.

Owen finally bowed his head slightly, allowing Ailine to hold him closer. His hands remained stiff at his sides, unsure of what to do, but his eyes closed as tears slipped free, tracing silent paths down his cheeks and onto Ailine’s skin. He didn’t return the kiss, yet every tear felt like a confession far more honest than any words he could have spoken.

Ailine held her breath, letting the moment stretch. She felt his exhaustion, the sorrow he had buried beneath layers of calm and composure, and she wanted—desperately—to be the place where he could finally let all of it go.

Owen said nothing. He simply let her warmth envelop him. The night wind rustled through the leaves, cold air wrapping around them, but the warmth of the tea in Ailine’s hand and the earthy scent of damp soil made the night feel strangely peaceful.

After a while, Ailine slowly pulled back, though she didn’t let go of him entirely. She studied his face, her eyes filled with care and quiet determination.

“Don’t misunderstand,” she said firmly, her voice raspy but unwavering. “This wasn’t an impulsive kiss. It wasn’t a trial kiss. This was a kiss I chose—fully, consciously, and with intent.”

“…,” Owen remained silent, his gaze fixed on her.

“I… I want you to know,” she continued, her voice trembling just a little, “I’m not here only because I care about the victims. I’m here because I care about you. And I want you to feel—truly feel—that you’re not alone.”

“….”

“I don’t care about my pride. I don’t care that you once rejected me. I was the one who pushed you away first—and I was also the one who chased after you again. I don’t care about any of that anymore!” Her voice wavered, breath growing uneven. “I… I just want to be with you.”

By the time she finished speaking, Ailine was slightly out of breath, as if she had poured every last ounce of courage she possessed into those words.

Owen inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. A faint smile curved his lips—bitter, restrained, but real. More than anything, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that someone like Ailine existed in his life, in his story.

Then, suddenly, he moved.

With a swift motion, he cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers.

Ailine’s eyes widened in shock, her mind momentarily blank as she struggled to process what had just happened.

This second kiss was different.

She felt the softness of his lips again, deeper this time, more intentional. The kiss lingered, growing increasingly intense, as though Owen were finally allowing himself to explore emotions he had kept locked away for years—staking a claim on feelings that had always been his from the beginning.

Ailine clutched the front of Owen’s jacket, her grip tightening as he gently guided her backward. His hand supported her as she landed softly on the ground, cushioned by the jacket he spread beneath her. Her cheeks burned, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Then—clarity struck him.

Owen pulled away abruptly, realization crashing down hard.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “I went too far.”

Ailine covered her face with both hands, her breath uneven. The sensation was intoxicating—dangerously so.

“If you want to continue,” she murmured, half-embarrassed, half-bold, “I wouldn’t mind. We’re both adults, after all.”

Owen shot her a sharp look. “Don’t provoke me! Say that properly—what are you even saying?”

“Hehe… just kidding.” Ailine sat back up beside him.

“I’m a normal man,” Owen muttered. “Don’t say things like that so casually. You’ll turn me into a villain.”

Ailine leaned closer, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Come on, I was just talking nonsense. Though… I wouldn’t mind either.”

“Ai-line!” Owen lifted his hand.

“Y-You’re going to hit me?” she gasped dramatically. “I’m a woman, Owen! Besides, I was joking! You’re no fun!”

Instead, Owen reached out and plucked a piece of dry grass from her hair, flicking it away.

“Uwaa—my hair was full of grass?” Ailine laughed. “I thought you were going to hit me. Ugh, and I can’t even wash my hair properly here.”

“You can wash it, but only once every three days because of the limited clean water. You could go to the river, but it’s pretty far—about a two-kilometer walk.”

“That’s fine,” Ailine said cheerfully. “As long as you come with me.”

Owen sighed.

“You don’t want to?” she pouted.

“We’ll see how things are tomorrow.”

“Huh? Give me a definite answer! You almost got inappropriate with me earlier—take responsibility!”

Owen’s face flushed. “D-Don’t bring that up! I’m sorry. Tomorrow, I’ll accompany you if you want to wash your hair at the river.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Ailine grinned mischievously. “By the way, this is the first time I’ve ever heard Owen Young stutter. Doctor, you’re adorable.”

“Shut up.”

Ailine smiled, then giggled softly. Teasing Owen was quickly becoming her new hobby. He was so much more expressive when flustered—and that faint blush on his face was irresistibly cute.

She rested her head on his shoulder again. This time, Owen didn’t resist.

They let the silence and the night bear witness to them—no long declarations, no promises, just two souls finding solace in each other amid the chaos of the world.

“Ailine…”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for coming.”

Ailine smiled faintly and reached for his hand, which had been folded in his lap. They sat like that for a long time, letting the warmth of the tea and the cool night air calm their hearts. Even a crumbling world couldn’t disturb this simple moment.

Above them, the galaxy shimmered brilliantly, the stars seeming to celebrate two people who had found something to hold onto amid destruction. Quiet. Peaceful. Meaningful.

For the first time that night, Ailine felt that even in a world full of ruins, something remained whole—something they could hold together, something that allowed them to comfort, care for, and strengthen one another.

“Owen…”

“Hm?”

“You still owe me a gift.”

“What? I already gave you everything you asked for back then.”

“We broke up when I was eighteen. I’m twenty-nine now. Twenty-nine minus eighteen is eleven gifts, not ten. So you still owe me one!”

“You’re incredibly calculative.”

“Of course I am!”

“Fine. When we return to the capital, I’ll give you your gift.”

“No,” Ailine said firmly. “This time, I’ll choose it. And you have to promise you won’t refuse.”

“What do you want, then? Don’t ask for anything unreasonable.”

“Promise first!”

“Alright, alright. I promise.”

She grinned. “I’ll tell you once we’re back in the capital.”

Owen had a bad feeling he had just walked straight into a trap—but knowing Ailine, her request would probably be simple. Probably.

---

Time passed, and the volunteer activities continued.

For security reasons—especially after people began recognizing the superstar among the volunteers—Ailine was assigned primarily to assist in the medical area. Though she wasn’t performing medical procedures, she helped clean wounds, fetch supplies, and even assisted the logistics team in cooking and distributing meals.

Day after day went by. Surprisingly, Ailine adapted well to this entirely new way of life. Sanitation and bathing were challenging, but Owen was always there, efficiently helping her whenever he could. It was embarrassing at times—but with Owen, it somehow felt okay.

That was how much she trusted him.

Of course, secrets never stayed hidden forever.

On the seventh day of volunteering, photos and videos of Ailine working alongside other volunteers spread across the media, shocking all of Country Z. Her parents and Julian nearly had heart attacks seeing the news. Emma could only grimace as Layla scolded her relentlessly. Though Emma denied everything, Layla knew—Ailine must have bribed her to keep this a secret.

Fortunately, by the seventh day, signal access had been restored. Ailine contacted her manager, friends, and parents, assuring them that she was safe and would return the next day—along with Owen. Coincidentally, Owen’s volunteer assignment was scheduled to end in ten days as well.

“Doctor, we’re finally going back to the capital,” Ailine said with relief. “More importantly, thank goodness the victims’ conditions have improved so much. I’m truly moved.”

“You’ve worked hard, Miss Su…”

Ailine shot him a glare. “Not Miss Su. Ailine.”

“You’re the one who started calling me ‘Doctor.’ What’s with that? I’m Owen, not Doctor!”

“But you are my doctor,” she protested. “I’m technically still your patient.”

“…Fine, whatever,” Owen sighed. “Though it makes me feel older.”

“Owen, you’re already twenty-nine! That’s old!”

“Then what does that make you?”

She froze. “Ah—right. That means I’m old too? Nooo!”

Their absurd banter continued as the other volunteers behind them shook their heads.

“Just get married already!” someone shouted.

And under the vast sky that had witnessed their pain, their reunion, and their healing, Ailine smiled—knowing that for the first time in a long while, her heart was finally at peace.