[Chapter 02] - Along Came Our Love

Chapter 2 -

The final interview of the day ended with the sharp click of a folder snapping shut.
Thara leaned back in his chair, a long sigh escaping him. Thirty candidates in one day. Out of all of them, fewer than ten had managed to catch his attention.

This time, the recruitment bar had been lowered—and so had the quality of those who showed up. For a receptionist position, people seemed to think it was nothing more than greeting others and smiling. No one bothered to understand the real responsibilities behind the desk.

At least there was that one girl—Mina. She’d been eager, sincere even. But her desperation had spoken louder than her qualifications.

Thara tapped the pen against the surface of the desk, once, twice. His fingers brushed his chin as he stared at her résumé one last time. Then he shook his head and set the pen down.

“Alright,” he said, straightening the stack of papers before him. “I’ll send out my evaluation of the selected candidates this evening.”

One of the other interviewers—a man in a grey suit with an easy smile—raised an eyebrow.
“You still haven’t decided? Can’t you be a little more flexible?”

Thara’s gaze sharpened. “Flexible?” His voice turned cool, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m choosing someone qualified for the job. I’m not shopping.”

The man gave a dry chuckle. “And how long are you planning to keep this up? The position’s been open for two months.”

“That’s right,” said the third interviewer, a woman with her arms folded across her chest. “You always want the most qualified person, and then you end up clashing with them. They don’t stay long, do they? Not everyone’s going to sit quietly and take orders.”

The man in the grey suit smirked. “What about that high school girl from earlier? She looked like she’d do whatever you told her.”

The edge of the folder in Thara’s hand creaked under his tightening grip. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he rose from his seat and strode out of the conference room, his expression unreadable.

If he hadn’t been there, they would’ve picked someone based on looks or connections.
That wasn’t how he worked. He wanted someone competent, dependable—someone who could handle their duties without needing constant babysitting.

He wasn’t about to lower his standards just to fill the seat.

Later that evening, when Thara reached his condo, he punched in the passcode and pushed the door open.

The light was on.

That was unusual. But what froze him mid-step wasn’t the light—it was the figure standing in his living room.

Mina Lee.

Wasn’t she one of the candidates from this afternoon? The one he had rejected on the spot.

For a long second, neither of them moved. She looked just as startled as he was, her almond-shaped eyes darting between him and the floor. A faint sheen of sweat glimmered on her brow, and something—nervousness, or perhaps fear—kept her shoulders stiff and her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

He stepped closer, stopping just short of closing the distance—close enough to catch the faint trace of detergent, or maybe sweat, lingering in the air.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was calm, but the weight in it filled the room.

“I… I just finished cleaning your place,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

“Speak up,” his tone sharpened, cutting through the silence.

“I said,” she repeated, louder this time, “I just finished cleaning here. What are you thinking? I’m not a thief! You can call Mr. Bin to confirm.”

Thara exhaled through his nose, studying her. “You’re saying you’ve been cleaning my place for two months? Did you stalk me, knowing I work at Merra?”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “What? You’re unbelievable.” A nervous laugh slipped from her. “I’ve never even seen you before today—how would I know where you work?”

It was a fair point. But Thara wasn’t a man who believed in coincidences.

“I’m leaving,” Mina said abruptly, turning toward the door.

Without thinking, he caught her hand. She froze, eyes lifting to his. Their gazes locked—surprise mirrored in both pairs of eyes. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

Why did I do that?

The thought hit him as quickly as the action itself. He let go of her hand almost immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, almost regretful.

Mina gave a small bow, her gaze lowered. Then she slipped out, the sound of the door closing echoing softly in the quiet room.

Thara stood there in the stillness, a long breath leaving his lungs.

What in the world had just happened?

Never in his life had he reached for someone like that—on instinct, without thought. And if it was instinct… then why her?

The next morning, Thara called Mr. Bin first thing.

“Morning, Mr. Oki!” the older man greeted cheerfully through the receiver.

“Hello, sir. Sorry to call so early, but there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

“Oh? Is it about your current housekeeper?”

“Yes, but—wait—how do you know?”

“She quit.”

“She quit?” Thara echoed, sharper than he intended, cutting off whatever Mr. Bin had been about to say.

“Yes,” came the patient reply. “Called me last night. Said she wouldn’t be cleaning your place anymore. Mentioned it was… something personal. I suggest you start looking for a new cleaning service.”

Thara sat there in silence for a moment. He hadn’t exactly planned to keep her, but somehow, the fact that she’d decided on her own irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

“That’s fine,” he said curtly. “Could you send someone else this Saturday?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Mr. Bin’s voice rose a notch. “I won’t be sending anyone. You’d better try other services—but I should warn you, Mr. Oki, you’ve been blacklisted.”

“...Blacklisted?”

“Yes. And please, drop by my office when you can. I’ll refund you for the remaining contract. Goodbye.”

The line clicked off.

Thara stared at the phone in his hand, lips pressed in a thin line. Blacklisted? In a city this size? Impossible.

 

Two days later, he had to admit defeat. Every cleaning service he called turned him down—some politely, others bluntly.

“I paid for their service,” he muttered to the empty apartment. “Can’t I complain if they didn’t do their job properly?”

He sank onto the couch, leaning back until his head touched the cushion. One hand rose to his forehead. The apartment was silent, painfully so.

He hated to admit it, but for the past two months, his home had been spotless—tidy, organized, exactly the way he liked it. Whoever had been cleaning had understood his standards without being told.

Mina Lee.

He exhaled slowly. How had she ended up being my housekeeper?

Was she planning to quit if she got accepted into Merra? Or had she quit because of what happened that day?

Either way, she wasn’t coming back.

A strange sense of discomfort tugged at him. Dust, clutter, mess—those he couldn’t handle. And the idea of that faint scent of detergent, that quiet order she left behind each time… disappearing—it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

He swallowed hard, staring at the silent phone beside him.

After a long pause, he picked it up and scrolled to Mr. Bin’s contact.

When the call connected, Thara spoke first. “Mr. Bin, could you help me one more time?”

A long, weary sigh came from the other end. “Mr. Oki, I really can’t help you anymore. Find someone else.”

“No,” Thara said firmly. His tone softened a beat later. “I don’t need someone else. Please… just let me meet Mina Lee.”