A Single Towel
Tuesday evening. Finishing up my work, I prepare dinner in the kitchen. Tonight's menu is budae-jjigae. It's a bit much for one person, but the ham and sausages in the fridge are nearing their expiration dates, so my goal is to clear them out all at once.
I dice the tofu, chop the green onions, and set a pack of ramen noodles aside. Pouring water into the pot, I build the broth base with gochujang and gochugaru. Once it starts to boil, I toss in the ingredients and cover it with the lid. Five minutes. In the meantime, I scoop rice from the cooker. Just one bowl. Because I'm alone.
The doorbell rings. I check the intercom. Lee Haeun. She's standing out there, looking different than usual. She isn't wearing her typical sports bra and leggings. Instead, she's in a zip-up hoodie and sweatpants, with a towel draped over her shoulders. Her hair is damp with sweat, her bangs clinging to her forehead. I open the door.
"Hey," she says.
"What's up?"
"The gym's boiler broke."
"...And?"
"I couldn't shower."
"...And?"
Haeun glares at me, her sharp eyes narrowing even further. "Let me use your shower."
"...Excuse me?"
"My apartment's boiler is acting up too. No hot water since this morning. I called the maintenance office, but they said they won't be here until tomorrow. And now the gym's boiler is out too. I just finished working out and I'm drenched in sweat—you expect me to wash with freezing cold water?"
Haeun tugs at the front of her zip-up hoodie to fan herself. Through the gap, I catch a glimpse of the black line of her sports bra. Sweat trickles down her neck, tracing her collarbone. "...Come on in." I have no choice. I can't turn away someone drenched in sweat. It's a humanitarian gesture. Yes, humanitarian.
Haeun steps inside and slips off her sneakers. She pulls her socks off and tucks them inside her shoes. Bare feet. Her toes are long—the feet of an athlete. "What about a towel?"
"...You didn't bring one?"
"The gym towels are too small. Lend me a big one."
I head to the bathroom and open the cabinet. There's only... one bath towel left. I've been putting off doing the laundry. I grab the large towel and hand it to Haeun. "This is the only one I have."
"It's plenty." Haeun takes the towel and heads into the bathroom. She shuts the door. I hear the lock click.
I return to the kitchen. The budae-jjigae is bubbling merrily. I lift the lid, give it a stir, and drop in the ramen noodles. Then, I pull out another bowl. Haeun will probably be hungry when she gets out. The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom. ...Focus. I place a slice of cheese on top of the stew, lower the heat, and scoop another bowl of rice.
The running water stops, followed by a voice. "Hey, Han Siu." It's coming from inside the bathroom.
"Yeah?"
"Where's the body wash?"
"In the cabinet under the sink."
"Got it." The water starts running again.
I transfer the budae-jjigae into a hot stone pot and set it on the kitchen island. Two bowls of rice, two spoons, two pairs of chopsticks. I take out some kimchi and arrange it on a small plate. The water stops. The sound of the lock turning, then the door opening.
"Hey," Haeun's voice calls out from the hallway.
"Yes?"
"I didn't bring any clothes."
"......"
"I really don't want to put those sweaty clothes back on. Do you have anything?"
I do. I have clothes. But this situation... "Just a second." I head to my room, pull a plain t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my drawer. Since they're mine, they'll be quite oversized on her, but it's better than nothing. Clutching the clothes, I walk out into the hallway—and freeze.
Haeun is standing right outside the bathroom door, wrapped in nothing but the towel. She has secured it just above her breasts, covering her from shoulders to just above her knees. With her build, a single towel is barely enough to cover her. The single sheet of fabric is desperately struggling to conceal her toned, 170-centimeter athletic frame.
Her hair is wet, her black locks cascading over her shoulders. Since she always keeps it tied back in a ponytail, this is the first time I've ever seen her hair down. It falls past her shoulders, looking even darker from the moisture. A single droplet of water falls from the tip of her hair, landing on her collarbone. It slowly trickles down, passing through the hollow of her collarbone toward the top edge of the towel. Right above her breasts, where the towel begins, the droplet stops and sinks into her skin. My eyes trace the path of that single droplet from start to finish.
Haeun looks at me. "What are you looking at?" Just those words. Sharp, dry, and provocative. Yet, she doesn't look away. She doesn't turn around, nor does she retreat back into the bathroom and shut the door. She just stands there, water dripping from her wet hair, wrapped in a single towel, staring straight at me.
"...Your clothes," I barely manage to squeeze out, holding out the t-shirt and sweatpants. Haeun reaches out with one hand to take them. Her other hand is holding the towel in place. As she takes the clothes, the hand holding the towel trembles slightly, and the top edge of the fabric slips down just a fraction. Just a tiny bit. But the tension that slight slip creates is astronomical.
"...Thanks." Haeun takes the clothes and steps back into the bathroom, closing the door. Just before it shuts, our eyes meet. Her eyes. Sharp, but containing something else. Was it playfulness, a test, or— The door clicks shut. I stand frozen in the hallway, my heart pounding as if it's about to explode. Fuck.
I walk back to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of cold water. The scene replays in my head on a loop. Her wet hair. The droplet of water tracing her collarbone. The single towel. 'What are you looking at?' Her shoulders exposed by the towel. An athlete's shoulders are different. The rounded, firm line of her deltoids. The soft curve of her upper chest leading down from her collarbone. Though wrapped in a towel, her silhouette was clear. It was a body forged through intense training, but it was undeniably a woman's body.
"...Calm down." I drink another glass of cold water. The bathroom door opens, and Haeun steps out. She's wearing my t-shirt and sweatpants. As expected, they're huge on her. The t-shirt practically slips off her shoulders, and she's had to fold the waistband of the sweatpants over. She's roughly drying her hair with the towel, though her locks are still damp.
"Is dinner ready?"
"...Yes." Haeun walks over to the kitchen island and takes a seat. She lifts the lid of the stone pot, letting a cloud of steam billow out. "Budae-jjigae?"
"Just clearing out the fridge."
"You even put cheese in it."
"Go ahead and eat."
Haeun picks up her spoon and scoops up some broth. She blows on it gently before putting it in her mouth. "..." Her expression shifts. Her sharp eyes soften slightly, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "...It's good," she murmurs, her eyes fixed on the pot. In this moment, Haeun isn't intimidating at all. She's just a hungry person enjoying a delicious meal.
I sit down across from her and start eating, pulling out the ramen noodles before they get soggy. "Did you work out hard today?"
"Leg day. Five sets of squats, lunges, and leg presses."
"Must've been tough."
"Tough is good." Haeun takes a large spoonful of rice and dunks it into the broth. She has a hearty, satisfying way of eating.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Earlier." Haeun pauses her spoon and looks at me. "You saw, didn't you?" It isn't a question. It's a statement. She knows I looked.
"...Saw what?"
"Don't play dumb." Haeun narrows her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk. It's hard to tell if she's mocking me or enjoying this.
"I didn't look."
"Liar. Your eyes were literally this big." Haeun circles her eyes with her hands. She's exaggerating. Probably.
"Uh... I was trying to maintain basic decency."
"Basic decency? Your eyes went straight from my collarbone all the way down." She's spot on. She saw exactly where my eyes went. This woman is sharp as a razor. "...Have some more stew." I quickly change the subject. Haeun chuckles.
"It's fine. You can look."
"...What?"
"I'm confident in my body. I work hard to maintain it, so there might as well be someone to appreciate it." It's classic Haeun. She has immense confidence in her physique. Since she works out, manages her diet, and sculpts her body every single day, she isn't shy about being looked at; she's used to being admired. But did that "you can look" carry some other meaning? Or was I just overthinking it?
"Let's just eat."
"Tsk." Haeun goes back to her food. The tension melts away, and our conversation turns light and casual as the stew dwindles to half. "Did you put green onions in this?"
"Yeah, scallions."
"I don't really eat green onions."
"Oh, really? I'll leave them out next time."
"Next time?" Haeun stops her spoon and looks at me. "You're going to cook for me next time too?"
"...Well, you're going to eat if you come over anyway."
"Hmph." Haeun snorts, but she doesn't stop eating. She finishes every last bite, even the broth. "That was a good meal."
"Leave the dishes. I'll wash them."
"I'll do it." Haeun gets up, gathers the dishes, and heads to the sink. She turns on the faucet and starts washing. Watching her back in my clothes... her waistline is faintly visible beneath the oversized t-shirt. Because the sweatpants are folded at the waist, a sliver of her side is exposed whenever the shirt rides up. Her firm flank. The very edge of her abdominal lines.
"Stop staring." How did she know when her back was turned?
"What do you—"
"I can feel your eyes on me, Han Siu. I'm a trainer. Reading people's gaze is part of my job." Goosebumps prickle my skin. This woman is seriously terrifying. I clear the table. Haeun finishes the dishes, dries her hands, and turns to face me. "Lend me your hairdryer."
"Ah, it's in the bathroom."
"I know. I saw it earlier." Haeun heads into the bathroom. I sit on the living room sofa and turn on the TV. The hum of the hairdryer buzzes from the bathroom.
About five minutes later, Haeun comes out. Her hair is dry now, her loose black locks draping over her shoulders. "You look different with your hair down, Haeun."
"How so?"
"Just... the vibe." Haeun sits on the opposite end of the sofa, crossing her legs. Her ankles peek out from beneath the sweatpants. They're slender. Her calves are incredibly toned, yet her ankles are remarkably delicate.
"The repair is tomorrow?"
"Yeah. The maintenance guy said tomorrow morning." Haeun checks the time. "I should go." She stands up, then pauses. "Hey. Hand it over."
"What?"
"My clothes. The wet ones."
"Oh, I can wash them and give them back to you."
"No, just give them to me. I'll wash them myself."
"You're going to take them back wet?"
"Just put them in a plastic bag."
I pack Haeun's workout clothes into a plastic bag and hand it to her. She takes it. In one hand is the bag, in the other, the towel. "I'll wash the towel and return it to you too."
"Don't worry about it, just leave it."
"But I borrowed it." Haeun folds the towel and places it by the entryway. She slips on her sneakers. "Dinner was great."
"It was nothing special."
"If something simple tastes that good, that's real skill." It's a very Haeun-like compliment. No beating around the bush. Straightforward. "Leave out the green onions next time."
"Sure."
"And..." Haeun opens the front door and steps out into the hallway. She looks back. Her sharp eyes. Her loose black hair. Haeun, wearing my clothes. "I'll return your clothes tomorrow."
"Take your time."
"I'll wash them first. Keep them clean." The door closes. Footsteps head toward room 203, fading away. The sound of her door shutting.
I lean against the front door. I pick up the towel Haeun left behind. It's damp. The towel that was just wrapped around her body. A faint scent of body wash lingers on it. I toss the towel into the washing machine and start it. Sitting on the sofa, I pick up the remote and flip through the TV channels. Nothing registers. The scene from earlier replays in my head again. Haeun wrapped in a single towel. The water droplet tracing her collarbone. Her loose black hair. 'What are you looking at?' And then Haeun at dinner, murmuring a soft, "It's good," as she ate her rice soaked in the broth. They're the same person. The woman who provoked me with nothing but a towel and the woman who let her guard down completely over a pot of budae-jjigae are one and the same. Lee Haeun is a person of extremes. Fierce and sharp, yet softening instantly in front of food. Commanding one moment, then whispering "It's good" the next. That gap is dangerous. If I fall into that gap, I feel like I'll never be able to climb back out.
"...I won't fall for it," I mutter to myself. I don't even know who I'm saying it to. The washing machine hums, spinning Haeun's towel through the soapy water. Tomorrow, Haeun will come back to return my clothes. Washed. Clean. They'll smell like her laundry detergent. Sighing, I turn off the TV and head to my studio. My new commission is a background illustration for a game company. I review the references and start on the rough sketch. I pick up my pen and draw a line. But my hand isn't drawing a background; it's drawing a figure. The back of a woman wrapped in a towel. Firm shoulders. Wet hair. I close the file. Turning off my tablet, I head to my bedroom. I brush my teeth, turn off the lights, and lie down on the bed. I stare at the ceiling. 'It's fine. You can look. I'm confident in my body.' Her words echo in my ears. I close my eyes, but I can still see it. Her collarbone. The water droplet. The top edge of the towel. Her sharp eyes. I can't sleep. Another night of insomnia. Only this time, the reason is different. The hum of the washing machine drifts into the bedroom. Once the cycle finishes, I'll have to take out Haeun's towel and hang it up to dry. Am I waiting for that moment to finally sleep, or am I trying to stay awake? I don't even know myself. Spring nights are short. An April dawn. The streetlights glow dimly outside the window. Maybe Haeun is washing her face with cold water somewhere in the apartment next door. That thought pushes sleep even further away. The sound of a boiler kicking in echoes from beyond the wall. But they said the repairman wasn't coming until tomorrow... No, it must be an auditory hallucination.