Epilogue -- Lunch Surprise

Epilogue Part 2 – Lunch Surprise

Singapore felt like the opposite of Jeonju.

Fast.

Bright.

Efficient.

Aleem stepped back into it like he was putting on a familiar jacket–work badge, office elevators, meetings that started on time and ended with action items.

He went back to being the dependable one.

The engineer.

The guy who solved problems.

The guy who didn’t get distracted.

Except he did.

Every night.

At exactly the hour the world quieted.

Because Mina called.

Sometimes it was voice.

Sometimes it was video.

Sometimes it was just a sleepy “are you awake?” that made Aleem’s chest flutter like he wasn’t a grown man with responsibilities.

He’d set his phone on his desk after dinner and wait like a teenager–pretending he wasn’t waiting.

The first time Mina video-called, Aleem almost dropped his phone.

Her hair was damp like she’d just showered, face bare, hoodie oversized.

She looked… normal.

And it made him panic in a way concerts never had.

Because this felt like something he could ruin.

Mina had smiled softly.

“Hi,” she’d said.

Aleem had cleared his throat like it mattered.

“Hi.”

Mina had tilted her head.

“You miss me?”

Aleem had stared.

Then answered honestly.

“Yes.”

Mina’s eyes had crinkled.

“Say it properly,” she’d teased.

Aleem had learned quickly.

He didn’t fight her rituals.

He leaned into them.

“I miss you,” he’d said. “A lot.”

Mina had smiled like she’d been waiting for those exact words.

“Good,” she’d whispered.

Aleem had exhaled.

And then, softly, “Me too.”

–

Work didn’t slow down.

Aleem’s calendar stayed full.

But Mina threaded herself through his days like a warm line.

She’d send photos of her coffee.

He’d send photos of his lunch.

She’d send voice notes in Japanese when she was too tired for English.

He’d listen even when he didn’t understand everything, because her tone alone felt like home.

She started getting casting calls.

Not idol schedules.

Not rehearsals.

Something quieter.

Brands that wanted her face.

Her “post-idol aura.”

Mina sounded conflicted when she told him.

“I don’t want to be… used,” she’d said.

Aleem had leaned into the call, voice steady.

“Then don’t let them,” he’d said. “Choose what feels right.”

Mina had gone quiet.

Then whispered, “You’re so… safe.”

Aleem’s heart had fluttered.

“I’m safe because I’m yours,” he’d said before he could filter it.

Mina had frozen.

Then laughed softly.

“Say it again,” she’d whispered.

Aleem had smiled.

“I’m yours.”

“Properly,” Mina had teased.

Aleem had exhaled.

“I’m yours properly.”

Mina had squealed quietly into her pillow.

Aleem had never felt more powerful in his life.

–

It was a normal Wednesday when she did it.

Aleem was in the office cafeteria with a tray of food, sitting with colleagues who had known him long enough to notice something was different.

“You’re smiling more,” one of them had said.

Aleem had shrugged. “Am I?”

“You are,” another insisted. “Are you dating?”

Aleem had kept his face neutral.

“Yes,” he’d admitted.

They’d leaned in immediately.

“Who?”

Aleem had stared at his rice like it held answers.

“She’s… famous,” he’d said.

The table had erupted.

“No way.”

“Like influencer famous?”

“Like… actress famous?”

Aleem had sighed.

“Like… she used to be an idol,” he’d said.

They’d laughed.

Someone had pointed a chopstick at him.

“Aleem, stop trolling.”

“I’m not trolling,” Aleem had said, irritated.

They’d laughed harder.

“Bro, you’ve been single forever. Suddenly you’re dating a celebrity?”

Aleem had deadpanned.

“Yes.”

They’d waved him off.

“Sure.”

Aleem had gone back to eating, mildly offended.

Then his phone buzzed.

From: Mina

Where are you?

Aleem blinked.

He typed back:

Lunch. Office cafeteria. Why?

A beat.

Another message.

Which building?

Aleem frowned.

Why? Are you near?

No reply.

Aleem stared at the screen.

Then it buzzed again.

Look up.

Aleem’s heart stopped.

Slowly–like he was afraid his brain was hallucinating–he lifted his head.

And there she was.

Right at the cafeteria entrance.

Hood down.

Mask on.

Eyes bright.

Mina Myoui, standing in Aleem’s workplace like she belonged there.

Aleem’s colleagues followed his gaze.

The table fell silent.

One of them whispered, “No.”

Another said, very softly, “Holy–”

Aleem stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.

Mina’s eyes crinkled.

She lifted her hand in a small wave.

Aleem walked toward her like gravity had changed.

When he reached her, he stopped too close.

He forgot where he was.

He forgot the world.

Mina looked up at him.

“Hi,” she said.

Aleem swallowed.

“Hi,” he answered.

Mina tilted her head.

“You didn’t believe?” she teased.

Aleem blinked. “Believe what?”

Mina’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“That I would come,” she murmured.

Aleem exhaled, helpless.

“I didn’t think you were in Singapore.”

Mina’s eyes softened.

“I’m here for a brand showcase,” she said. “Two days.”

Aleem stared.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Mina’s eyes crinkled.

“Surprise,” she whispered.

Aleem’s chest tightened.

His voice dropped. “You’re insane.”

Mina nodded calmly. “Yes.”

Aleem almost laughed.

Then he remembered the cafeteria.

He turned slightly.

His colleagues were staring like they’d seen a ghost.

One of them mouthed, IS THAT–

Aleem looked back at Mina.

“Mina,” he said softly.

Mina’s eyes held his.

“What?”

Aleem’s throat went tight.

“Can I… hug you?” he asked.

Mina blinked.

Then nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Aleem wrapped his arms around her–careful, gentle, not crushing.

Mina leaned into him like she’d been waiting all week.

Her hands curled into the back of his coat.

Aleem felt his entire system calm.

Like his body had been holding tension since Incheon and didn’t realize it.

Mina’s voice was tiny against his chest.

“You smell like work,” she whispered.

Aleem huffed a laugh. “I am work.”

Mina giggled.

Then she pulled back slightly.

Her eyes slid toward the cafeteria.

“Your friends,” she murmured.

Aleem sighed. “They’re not my friends. They’re colleagues. And they don’t believe me.”

Mina’s eyes crinkled mischievously.

“They don’t believe you’re dating me?”

Aleem looked away, embarrassed.

“They think I’m lying.”

Mina hummed.

Then–calmly, like she’d decided to solve the problem herself–she reached up and tugged her mask down.

Just enough.

Her face revealed.

The cafeteria audibly inhaled.

Someone’s fork clattered.

Aleem’s colleague whispered, “Oh my God.”

Mina looked up at Aleem.

“Now they believe?” she asked sweetly.

Aleem’s heart nearly collapsed.

“Yes,” he whispered. “They believe.”

Mina smiled.

Then she leaned closer, voice private.

“Say it,” she whispered.

Aleem’s chest warmed.

“I choose you,” he murmured.

Mina’s eyes softened.

“Properly,” she reminded.

“Properly,” Aleem repeated.

Mina’s smile widened.

Then she turned her head slightly toward the cafeteria and waved.

“Hello,” she said politely.

Aleem’s colleagues malfunctioned.

One of them managed a strangled, “Hi…?”

Mina turned back to Aleem.

“Lunch with you,” she said. “Please.”

Aleem blinked.

“You want to eat here?”

Mina’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“Why not?”

Aleem swallowed.

“Okay,” he said.

Mina’s eyes crinkled.

“Okay,” she echoed.

–

They sat at Aleem’s table.

The cafeteria became a silent documentary.

Phones lifted.

Whispers spread.

Aleem’s colleagues stared at Mina like she was a myth.

Mina ate calmly, politely, asking Aleem questions about his work like she belonged there.

“What do you do today?” she asked.

Aleem tried to keep his brain online.

“Meetings,” he said.

Mina nodded gravely. “Hard.”

Aleem huffed a laugh.

“It is hard.”

Mina’s fingers brushed his under the table.

Just once.

A secret pulse.

Aleem’s whole body warmed.

One colleague finally found his voice.

“So… you’re really… dating?”

Mina looked up, smiling politely.

“Yes,” she said.

Aleem’s colleague stared at Aleem like he’d betrayed physics.

Aleem shrugged helplessly.

Mina tilted her head.

“You didn’t believe him?” she asked, tone gentle but amused.

The colleague coughed. “I mean… it’s Aleem.”

Aleem frowned. “What does that mean?”

Mina’s eyes softened.

“It means you’re… quiet,” she said. “But warm.”

Aleem’s throat tightened.

Mina looked at the colleague again.

“I like quiet,” she added.

The colleague went silent.

Airi had texted Mina, probably asking if she’d died.

Mina glanced at her phone and smiled.

Then she looked at Aleem.

“After lunch,” she whispered, “come with me. I want to see Singapore with you.”

Aleem blinked. “Today?”

Mina nodded.

“I only have two days,” she said. “I want you.”

Aleem’s chest fluttered.

He kept his face calm.

But his voice dropped.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m yours.”

Mina’s eyes widened.

Then she smiled slowly.

“Say it properly,” she whispered.

Aleem exhaled.

“I’m yours properly,” he murmured.

Mina giggled, cheeks warming.

Outside the cafeteria, someone’s phone camera caught the moment.

They didn’t see it.

Or maybe they did.

But this time, neither of them denied it.

Because Aleem was done hiding something that made Mina’s shoulders lighter.

And Mina was done living like love had to be secret to be safe.

Later that night, the photos hit social media.

Former idol.

Singaporean engineer.

A lunch surprise.

And for the first time, Mina didn’t flinch.

She simply called Aleem from her hotel room and whispered,

“Still choose me?”

Aleem’s answer came instantly.

“Always,” he said.

Mina’s breath hitched.

“Properly?” she teased.

Aleem smiled into his phone.

“Properly,” he promised.

And Mina, on the other side of the line, sounded like she was smiling too.