Minra never expected to be comfortable around him.
She had spent so much time avoiding him.
And yet—
Now, she found herself closer to him than anyone else on set.
And it all started with the script readings.
.
It happened once.
Then twice.
Then it became a habit.
Whenever Shuun felt something was off, he wouldn’t ask the director.
He wouldn’t ask the screenwriter.
He wouldn’t even ask the other actors.
He would ask her.
“Minra.”
A single word.
A simple call.
And without hesitation, every time, her attention would shift to him.
“What do you think?”
.
At first, it caught people off guard.
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The first time he had pulled her into the discussion, there had been stunned silence.
The director had blinked. “Her?”
Shuun had nodded, completely unbothered. “She has a good eyes, hasn’t she?”
And just like that—Minra was involved.
Every time there was a moment in the script that didn’t feel right, he would glance at her.
Not for approval.
Not for praise.
But for her insight.
Because this was her story.
And he knew that.
.
Minra had seen so many actors demand changes to scripts.
To fit their style.
To sound more dramatic.
To make themselves look better.
But Shuun?
Shuun didn’t change anything without her.
He would read a scene, frown slightly, and then—
“This part. It doesn’t feel right.”
“But it’s not my place to change it.”
“You decide.”
Minra had never heard an actor say that before.
It wasn’t just respect for her work.
It was understanding.
A simple, quiet acknowledgment that this wasn’t his story to rewrite.
It was hers.
And somehow, that made it so much easier to talk to him.
.
At first, Minra only answered when asked.
But over time—it changed.
Because when she saw something off in a scene—
She started to speak before he even asked.
“Wait—this part isn’t quite right.”
Shuun would glance at her. “How so?”
And just like that—she was discussing her own script with him.
Not as an outsider.
Not as a crew assistant.
But as the writer.
And Minra liked it.
Liked that she could say something without being dismissed.
Liked that he would actually listen instead of just nodding along.
Liked that she didn’t have to fight for her voice when she was with him.
It was unexpected.
But for the first time since this adaptation started—
She felt like her story was in good hands.
.
She hadn’t meant for it to happen.
But somewhere along the way, it did.
She became comfortable with him.
Enough to stand beside him during script readings.
Enough to exchange thoughts freely, without hesitation.
Enough to not even realize that she was no longer tense when he was around.
And Shuun?
Shuun noticed.
Because every time she spoke first,
Every time she leaned in to point something out,
Every time she forgot to be cautious around him—
He would watch her, just briefly, with something close to amusement.
Like she was walking into another trap.
One she hadn’t even noticed yet.
And Shuun?
Shuun was just waiting to see when she’d finally realize.
.
Across the room, Jang Yohan clenched his jaw.
Because he saw it.
The way Minra wasn’t avoiding Shuun anymore.
The way she spoke so easily with him now.
The way she had stopped flinching under his gaze.
She had gotten comfortable.
Too comfortable.
And that—
That was something Yohan couldn’t ignore.
.
Chapter 14: The Realization That Came Too Late