𝔒𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔐𝔞𝔣𝔦𝔞

12

The afternoon sun poured through the windows of the mansion, bathing the kitchen in a soft, golden glow. Hae-rin stood by the counter, her back to the door, trying to ground herself in the mundane task of preparing a late lunch. Chopping vegetables had always been a calming activity, but today her hands were unsteady. The encounter with Joon-Syuk lingered in her mind, his unsettling gaze making her skin prickle even now. She had to shake it off.

The sound of Taehyung's footsteps behind her made her tense, but she didn't turn around. She knew he was watching her, the same way he always did—an almost tangible presence that made it hard to breathe. She focused on the rhythm of the knife in her hand, hoping he would just leave her alone for once.

But of course, he didn't.

"You know," Taehyung's deep voice broke the silence, the hint of a smirk audible even before she saw his face, "there's something really attractive about a woman who can handle a knife."

Hae-rin bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to rise to his teasing. Her pulse quickened, but she kept her eyes fixed on the cutting board in front of her, pretending he wasn't there.

Undeterred, Taehyung moved closer, the warmth of his body brushing against hers. "You're not going to talk to me today, huh?" His tone was light, playful, but there was an edge of something else—a need for attention, for connection. It was strange how he could shift between possessive and playful so easily. The contrast kept her on edge.

Hae-rin's fingers tightened around the knife handle. "I'm busy," she muttered, trying to sound indifferent, though her heart raced.

But Taehyung wasn't one to take a hint. She felt the brush of his hand against her waist, a gentle, almost absentminded caress, and then before she could react, he slipped both arms around her from behind, pulling her back against his chest.

Her body stiffened immediately. "Taehyung—"

"Shh," he murmured into her ear, his lips grazing her skin lightly. His hands rested on her waist, firm but not demanding, the warmth of his body surrounding her in a way that made it impossible to focus. "Just stay like this for a second."

She tried to wriggle free, but his hold only tightened. It wasn't forceful—nothing about his touch hurt—but the weight of him was suffocating. "I need to finish this," she said through gritted teeth, her mind whirling. She couldn't afford to let herself soften, not for him.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back. "We can finish together," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But I like this view better." His lips brushed against the side of her neck, sending an involuntary shiver through her. "I missed you."

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her resolve. He was always like this—so overwhelming, so close, like he wanted to wrap her in his presence and never let go. And despite everything that had happened, her body betrayed her, reacting to the heat of him pressed against her back. But her mind—her mind couldn't forget how wrong this all was.

"I don't care," she whispered, though her voice wavered. She needed to stay focused on that, on how much she hated him for everything. But his closeness made it hard to think, to breathe.

Taehyung let out a soft hum, as if amused by her defiance. "You're lying," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. He spun her around in his arms so that she was facing him, her back pressed against the counter. "And you know it."

His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into hers. For a moment, the playfulness faded, replaced by something deeper, something raw. He was close now—too close—and Hae-rin's heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"Taehyung, stop," she said, her voice faltering as she put her hands on his chest to push him away.

But he wasn't having it. In one swift motion, he lifted her and sat her on the counter, his body sliding between her legs, caging her in. She gasped, her breath catching as her hands flew to his shoulders for balance. His eyes glittered with a mix of amusement and desire, and there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he looked at her, as though she was the only thing in the world he cared about in that moment.

"Why do you keep running?" His voice was soft now, almost tender, as his hands slid to her waist, holding her there as if she might try to slip away again. "I'm not the monster you think I am."

Hae-rin's chest tightened at his words, and she hated the way her body reacted to him—the way her pulse quickened, the way warmth spread through her despite her better judgment. She clenched her fists, trying to hold on to the anger, the disgust she had for him. "You are exactly the monster I think you are," she spat, though her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be.

Taehyung's eyes darkened, but instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. The intimacy of the gesture caught her off guard. "If I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice so low it was almost a growl, "why do you let me get this close?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind scrambling for an answer. He was right—why did she let him? Every time he touched her, every time he held her like this, the lines between hate and something else blurred in ways that terrified her. She couldn't let herself fall into his trap, couldn't let him think he had power over her.

"I—" she started, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she found herself staring at him, her heart racing as his thumb brushed lightly against her hip, sending sparks of electricity up her spine.

"You don't hate me, Hae-rin," he said softly, his lips inches from hers, his breath mingling with hers. "Not like you think you do."

And before she could protest, before she could push him away, Taehyung's lips crashed against hers, claiming her in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was rough, demanding, and full of all the tension that had been simmering between them for so long.

For a second—just a second—she kissed him back.

But then reality slammed into her, and she shoved him away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Don't," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Don't do this."

Taehyung stared at her, his chest rising and falling with the same labored breaths, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn't say anything, but his hands remained on her waist, as though he was waiting—waiting for her to change her mind, to pull him back in.

But Hae-rin slid off the counter, her legs shaky beneath her as she stepped away from him. "I can't," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

For the first time, Taehyung didn't push. He watched her in silence as she walked toward the door, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to get away from him, needed to clear her head before she did something she would regret.

But even as she left the kitchen, even as she put distance between them, she knew it was futile. Taehyung was always there, in her mind, in her thoughts—and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape him.