I attentively watch Lina from the breakfast table as she silently walks out of the guestroom, cautiously looking around. She takes light steps towards the front door.

"You're up early," I speak up, taking a slight sip from my cup of coffee.

She jumps as high as the ceiling. I feel my lips curve upwards in a smile. One of her hands rests on her chest where her heart is and the other is tightly grabbing onto her purse. I notice the effort in guarding her tiny purse and raise an eyebrow. "I didn't see you there," she murmurs, finally getting the courage to walk up to me.

I gesture for her to sit down, and she sits across from me. She gnaws on her bottom lip. "Well, I almost didn't hear you leave the guestroom." I comment, my voice eerily calm.

Her green eyes meet mine, stunned. "Then how did you notice me?"

She narrows her eyes as my smirk widens. "Twist."

"How could that possibly be a twist?" She exclaims, loudly banging her fist against the table. My eyes land on my cup of coffee, watching the way the liquid vibrates. I look back up to lock eyes.

"You're the one who claims to read me like an open book, so you tell me," I challenge.

Her lips twitch, as if she's trying not to smile. "You're impossible sometimes," she whispers. My ears peak up at her statement and I grin. She scoffs under her breath and grabs a slice of toast. She roughly bites into it, thinking. I continue to sip my coffee comfortably, gently drawing into my red notebook. "What do you draw in the black notebook?"

I stiffen in shock, my hand drawing a stray black line across my sketch. I squeeze my eyes shut before meeting her eyes. She looks back at me with a smirk on her face. I glare straight into her eyes, finding her worst possible nerve to hit. Resentment builds up in me once again. Lingering traces of fear swims around in my stomach. Probably reading me like an open book, her smirk fades away little by little.

"Is it really that hard for you to tell me what's—"

"Don't ever mention the black notebook."

"What?" Her eyes widen at my sharp statement. Her eyebrows furrow in surprise. I grip tighter onto my pencil, pressuring the point of it against the notebook. I look away first, out the window. Unlike yesterday, the sun is out. There isn't a cloud in sight. It was beautiful. Days like this would actually bring me outside to capture the scene. But today just doesn't seem to be a day with this dangerous curiosity hanging in the air.

"Look. I was just curious. You were so agitated last night. You were shaking so much and you started getting rough. I just wanted to know what was wrong. I was so worried about—"

"Enough," I bluntly cut her off.

At the corner of my eyes, her face hardens. "Stop being so rude and let me finish a sentence, Kibum." She starts, her voice dropping dangerously low when she says my name. I snap my eyes at her, glaring. "I heard you scream—"

Snap!

I harshly throw my broken pencil and notebook down at the floor as I jump to my feet. My chair flies back and loudly hits the wall. She slightly flinches at my sudden actions. Her hand quickly goes to her purse in shock. I slam my hands down the table and lean towards her. I feel my lips pull up in a sneer. "Enough, I said," I growl, my anger rolling out with my words.

Surprisingly enough, she keeps her composure. She exhales a small breath. I notice the tiny shake in her voice. My lips pull up higher in arrogance. Am I finally seeing a tinge of fear?

Silence unfolds. Seconds turn into minutes, as we both stay rooted in our spots. I don't even dare to open my mouth. I take the silence to calm my erratic behavior, now feeling the regret sink in. I'm really losing it. She looks back at me, still as a doll. Confusion and curiosity swims in her green eyes. All hint of fear slowly disappears.

"What is inside that notebook that makes you so sensitive?" She finally murmurs out. My shoulders tense up again and her eyes widen. I hold back another outburst, seeing the mistake in her eyes. She must have accidentally wondered out loud. For the sake of her safety, I pull away from her completely. I straighten my back, making her look up at me from her seat. Her hint of fear was back.

And the sight makes me want to scream.

A woman so beautiful shouldn't have that look in her eyes. So, I reach forward and roughly grab her wrist. I pull her out of her chair and forcefully drag her to the front door. She struggles against my hand, but I don't even hear a weak whimper escape her lips. I chuckle lowly as I look back at her. Composed as always. "It's time for you to leave," I whisper, my voice still gruff from my previous anger.

Her eyes widen larger than before. She grows still and simply looks at me. "You can't tell me when to leave," she whispers back.

I thoroughly look into her eyes, watching the way the color looked like it swirled around her pupils. My eyes cast down to her lips, slightly curled down in a frown. When I reach her eyes again, I say, "This is my house."

I try to pull her out the open front door, refraining myself from tightening my grip on her wrist. She starts to struggle out of my hold, her strength surprisingly strong. Annoyance bubbles inside, and I keep it at bay.

"Wait," she exclaims once I finally get her to go outside. She stops the door from closing just like last time. A sense of déjà vu overwhelms me, making me clench the doorknob. She takes a moment, looking at her up and down. Her eyes no longer hold the fear. Instead, it's back to being analytical, sizing me up. She locks eyes with mine. Her look sends a shiver down my spine. "I still want to keep meeting with you."

I close my eyes just as the words leave her mouth. I was expecting this. A deep sigh escapes my mouth. When I look back at her, her face clearly shows anticipation, hope. I take a longer moment to reply, the look on her face stunning me to silence. Hope? Was there ever such an emotion like that directed towards me? It seems so foreign that even thinking about that word was abnormal. "Just never come back into my house," I finally let out.

I shut the door before she could let a single word out. It was rude, yes. But I don't think I can handle any more turmoil for today. So, I lock my doors and head straight into my room. I curl up in a ball, hugging onto my knees on my bed. My mind swirls with nonsense. Curious questions. Analytical face. Tense attitude. Rigid actions. Unnerving silence. Everything had a piece of Lina in it. Everything in my head has a picture of Lina. Soon enough, they all fade away.

Her fearful green eyes stay instead.