Jinah: *She narrows her eyes, studying his face.* Oppa… you're sweating. And you keep looking at the window like you're expecting someone… or something.
Christopher's heart hammers against his ribs. He needs to think about something, anything, to deflect her suspicion.
Christopher: *He forces a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively.* Just… stressed about work. You know how it is. *He wipes his damp palms on his jeans.*
Jinah: *She leans in closer, her voice barely a whisper.* Work? But you haven't mentioned work once since… well, since you got back from that weird raid.
The shimmering feathers, now long but dust, flashes across his mind. Jinah's gaze sharpens, locking onto his.
Jinah: *Her eyes widen, as a flicker of understanding dawning in their depths.* You're not Jin-Woo, are you?
Christopher's silence hangs heavy in the air, a stark confession. Meanwhile, in Germany, the wails of the baby gradually subside. Jin-Woo, rocking the infant, feels a strange sense of accomplishment. The rhythmic motion, the warmth of the small body against his, oddly calming.
Jin-Woo: *He looks down at the now sleeping infant, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.* See? All we needed was a bit of rhythmic persuasion.
Christine: *She rolls her eyes, the burnt sugar scent fading slightly.* Rhythmic persuasion? More like dumb luck. Don't think this excuses you for forgetting the formula.
Jin-Woo: *He sets the baby down gently in the crib, turning to face Christine.* I already told you, I'll go get it tomorrow. The shops are closed. *His voice, surprisingly firm, silences her tirade.*
Christine opens her mouth to retort, then closes it, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. This wasn't the Christopher she knew.
In Seoul, Jinah sits across from Christopher, the silence stretching between them, thick with unspoken questions. He thinks of Monja, her warm smile. A wave of longing washes over him.
Christopher: *He sighs, running a hand through his hair.* I… I don't know how to explain this…