Boundless

제 6 장

Two Weeks Later

Jae had risen with the hush of dawn, soft steps padding across the floor as he left to fetch breakfast and coffee for us both. When he returned, he found me still curled in his sheets, tangled in sleep and dreams I never remembered. Gently, he nudged me awake, setting a warm sausage, egg, and cheese croissant on the nightstand beside a steaming cup of coffee and two ibuprofen—his silent offering to the dull headaches and heartburn that greeted me each morning like unwelcome guests.

I pulled my curls into a tired bun, my body heavy with sleep and emotion, and slipped into the shower. By the time I stepped out, brushing my teeth with foam clinging to my lips, Jae was undressing, his voice tender.

"Baby, I'm heading to work in an hour. If you feel worse... please, go home or to the hospital, alright?" He pressed a kiss to my cheek, warm and grounding, before disappearing into the shower. I only nodded.

It amazed me, how close we'd grown in such a short span—two weeks folded in like lifetimes. I'd given him my body, but it was my heart he had claimed the night he asked me to be his, his voice reverent even as he moved within me. I think he had made me his long before then—maybe the first moment our lips met. But nights were strange things. Even lying in his arms, sleep evaded me. And though he often tried to stay awake with me, I never let him. It was enough to listen to him breathe beside me.

From the bathroom, his voice floated in soft hums, lines of Korean melodies I didn't know but adored. Then his phone began to ring.

Once. Twice. Again and again. I glanced at it on the counter.

79 missed calls — Father.
Two unread messages — Angeline.

You should answer your father's calls. He's not happy, Jae Eun. This is your fault—own it.

What you did was disgraceful. How can you parade the streets with that woman? I do not approve. If this is another one of your phases, it ends here.

The breath left my lungs.

He called out, asking for his towel, and I handed it to him without meeting his eyes. My fingers trembled, and I hated the way the messages sat like thorns in my chest. I didn't know who she was talking about—not entirely. But I felt it in my bones: I had become the storm disrupting Jae's otherwise pristine world.

Still wrapped in his towel, Jae answered a call. I could hear the fury in the man's voice, so loud it bled through the walls. Jae's reply was steady, unwavering.

"I'm not a boy anymore. You don't get to govern every piece of me. My work is mine. My heart is mine. Stay out of it."

But then came the voice, piercing and cruel—accidentally on speaker.

"It's not private when you're dragging my name around with that black girl."

Silence. A thousand shards of it.

Jae turned in horror, but it was too late. I had heard every syllable, every inch of venom in that sentence.

• • •

"Athena, please, just listen—" Jae called after me, chasing me down the sidewalk.

I said nothing. My hands moved with practiced fury, gathering the few things I'd brought to his place. My shoes slid on, one after the other, each step away from him more painful than the last.

He caught my wrist and spun me around.

"Are you really going to leave again? Just like that? You're not even going to let me—"

"Don't, Jae. Don't make excuses for blatant racism." My voice shook, but not with fear—with fire. "I don't want to hear anything that justifies what he said. You can tell your father this black woman is more than the shade of her skin. I am the sweat of my labor, the blood of my battles, the breath of generations that endured far more than his narrow mind could fathom."

Jae's eyes wavered, glassy. He clutched my hands to his chest, voice low, desperate.

"I'm not defending him. That's him, Athena. Not me. I care about you. I choose you."

But my heart was splintering.

"I would rather die alone in dignity than be belittled for simply existing. I would rather be unloved than tolerated. You don't know what it feels like to carry this skin like armor, to walk the world and have to prove your worth just to be seen as human."

I tore my hands away.

"Athena—"

"No." My voice was barely a whisper now. "I have to go."

And I did. I walked away, my heart heavy and burning. I left it there on the boardwalk where it shattered, every step echoing with betrayal and ache.

"Athena!" For the first time, he shouted. He screamed my name like it was the only word he knew.

But I didn't turn around.

I wouldn't.

Because I knew who I was. I was not some fragile, forgettable thing. I was iron and velvet. Brick and bloom. And I would not be broken by a name, nor burned by the fire of a man who couldn't shield me from the world's hate.

I walked away with tears falling—but my head held high.

Because love should never come with shame.