𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 |Taelisa|✓

||01|| Taxi Driver

||L I S A||

I wake up enveloped in the soothing embrace of the morning, surrounded by the serene ambiance of my quiet yet opulently simple room.

My life unfolds like a complex tapestry, but amidst the twists and turns, my singular aspiration is success and wealth, the fruits of my unwavering labor.

Love is an idea that is foreign to me, for I harbor a guarded heart. I relish men but utilize them as temporary companions, considering them disposable.

The roots of my emotional detachment trace back to high school, when the boy I loved, Jimin Park, betrayed me with my classmate Sana.

Since that moment, a conviction has settled within me that men are inherently unreliable.

I navigate my existence with distinct needs and rigid rules. Last night, in the dimly lit confines of a pulsating club, I encountered a man who momentarily satisfied my desires.

However, his self-centered approach left me yearning for more.

He was a total jerk and just fulfilled his needs with me. I refrain from inviting anyone into my house; I never allow men to come to my house.

The need simply doesn't arise. This house belongs to our parents, and it holds memories for both of us.

Despite being able to afford a luxurious dwelling, my sister and I chose not to leave. It's filled with our childhood memories, and after our parents' tragic accident, we stayed here and worked hard.

Our relatives didn't care about us, but this house is a testament to our resilience and the love we shared.

The echoes of the past linger, rendering me impervious to emotional entanglements.

As dawn breaks, I find myself grappling with the aftermath of a disheartening night.

The man I sought resembled a callous stranger, failing to meet the standards of satisfaction that I demanded.

The emotional scars from Jimin's betrayal persist, influencing my interactions and reinforcing the belief that true fulfillment lies solely in self-reliance.

Stepping out of bed, I ambled into my bathroom, shedding my clothes before turning the faucet, allowing the warm water to cascade into the awaiting bathtub.

The embrace of the bath brought a profound sense of relaxation, a moment of solace in the sanctuary of my own space. In this private retreat, I reveled in love for myself and my body, a sentiment indifferent to the judgments of the world.

Juxtaposed against the backdrop of this self-love was the unwavering connection I held with my sister, Jisoo.

She wasn't merely family; she stood as my confidante, my best friend, and the one soul who truly understood me. Amidst a world where I cared for nothing and no one, Jisoo was the exception.

As I washed away the remnants of the night, I adhered to a morning routine that spoke volumes about my autonomy.

Never allowing a man to kiss me or share my bed, my interactions were transactional, serving my needs without entertaining notions of emotional relationships. Relationships, once a belief, now stand as relics of a dead era.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I emerged from the bathroom and traversed to my closet, where a curated collection of designer outfits awaited.

Each ensemble is a reflection of my role as a creative director for a fashion industry company. My influence extended to my boutique, where I breathed life into my artistic vision.