The Love We Hide

Ep 9: Boundaries Blurred

Chapter 9: Boundaries Blurred

Soo-Jin hadn’t meant to stay so late. It was nearing midnight, and she was still in Ji-Hoon’s office, surrounded by papers for the exhibition. The ticking clock in the corner felt like a metronome, counting down the moments that stretched between them. Ji-Hoon had been unusually quiet tonight, his usual confidence replaced by something more intense, more focused.

She felt his gaze on her again—sharp, almost magnetic. The silence in the room was heavy, charged with something unspoken. Soo-Jin cleared her throat, pretending to be engrossed in the exhibition plans, but the weight of his attention was impossible to ignore.

“Are we done for the night?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. Her heart was pounding harder than she wanted to admit.

Ji-Hoon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked over to the window, staring out at the city lights below. “I don’t think we are,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.

Soo-Jin looked up, confused. “What do you mean? I’ve gone through all the changes you requested.”

Ji-Hoon turned around, his expression unreadable as he took a step closer to her. “I’m not talking about the exhibition,” he said, his tone dark, almost dangerous. “I’m talking about us.”

Her breath caught in her throat. There it was—the thing they’d both been avoiding, lurking just beneath the surface for weeks. Soo-Jin swallowed, feeling her pulse quicken. She stood up, trying to regain control of the situation, but Ji-Hoon was already crossing the room, closing the distance between them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed, her voice shaky as she stepped back, only to feel the edge of the desk behind her.

His eyes didn’t waver. “Yes, you do.”

Soo-Jin felt trapped, both by the physical space and by the intensity in Ji-Hoon’s gaze. He was too close now, his tall frame towering over her. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between them thick enough to cut through.

“Ji-Hoon, this—this isn’t professional,” she stammered, trying to sound firm, but her voice faltered.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin. “Since when has anything between us been just professional?”

The words hung in the air, and Soo-Jin felt her resolve crumbling. She couldn’t deny the truth anymore. They had been dancing around this for too long, and now, with him so close, it felt impossible to keep pretending. But the risk was too high—her heart couldn’t take another hit.

“I can’t…” She whispered, her voice breaking.

Ji-Hoon’s hand brushed against her arm, the touch light but enough to send a jolt through her. “Why not? What are you so afraid of, Soo-Jin?”

Her eyes finally met his, and the vulnerability she saw there nearly broke her. He wasn’t the cold, distant CEO in this moment—he was just a man, standing in front of her, asking for something she wasn’t sure she could give. She didn’t have an answer, or maybe she was too afraid to give one.

“I’m afraid of getting hurt again,” she admitted, her voice trembling. It was the first time she had voiced the fear that had been eating away at her since their first encounter.

Ji-Hoon’s gaze softened, and he stepped even closer, his hand now resting on her waist. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice steady, filled with a sincerity that made her chest tighten. “But you have to trust me.”

Trust. It was such a fragile thing, and yet, as he stood there, so close she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could let someone in again.

Before she could overthink it, Ji-Hoon’s hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up towards his. His eyes searched hers for permission, and in that split second, Soo-Jin made a choice. She wasn’t sure what would come next, but for once, she was willing to take the risk.

His lips met hers in a soft, tentative kiss, but the moment they touched, everything else fell away. The doubts, the fear, the walls she had built—they all crumbled under the weight of that kiss. It was slow at first, as if they were both testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, the hunger between them undeniable.

Soo-Jin’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, erasing any remaining distance between them. The kiss was overwhelming, a rush of sensations that left her dizzy and breathless, but she didn’t want it to stop.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” Ji-Hoon whispered, his voice rough.

Soo-Jin’s heart was racing, her mind a blur of emotions, but for once, she didn’t feel the need to push him away. “So have I,” she admitted, barely recognizing her own voice.

Ji-Hoon’s thumb gently traced the outline of her lips, his eyes dark and intense. “Then let’s stop pretending, Soo-Jin. Whatever this is—it’s real. And I’m not walking away.”

Soo-Jin felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face everything alone.

“Neither am I,” she whispered, and in that moment, the boundaries between them blurred, and they both knew there was no going back.