Boundless

제 7 장

There is one truth I have come to accept in this life, one I've learned not from textbooks or whispered wisdom, but from pain itself: when you create a soul tie with someone—when your spirit reaches out and binds itself to another—it does not unravel easily. It lingers, it haunts. It threads itself into your thoughts, your dreams, your body. It does not ask permission to stay.

Two months had passed since I last saw Jae, and not a single day felt light without him. My heart sat heavy in my chest, wrapped in regret, draped in longing. I had left in rage, in defense of my worth—but still, I wondered. Wondered if he thought of me late at night. Wondered if my name still lived in the silence between his breaths. Or perhaps... perhaps I was already a memory, folded away and forgotten. Perhaps he had moved on, without even looking back.

I missed him. Miserably so. I craved the weight of his arms around me, the warmth of his breath against my skin, the cinnamon scent that always clung to his shirts. I missed how he made the world pause.

So when I saw him again—like a ghost reborn into flesh—I nearly forgot how to breathe.

We were gathered in a grand hall, robed and crowned with our accomplishments. Today, I crossed the finish line of my degree. I had climbed the mountain, entered a world I had no map for, and made a home out of my determination. Today was supposed to be about pride. About joy. And yet, my soul had other plans.

He stood across the room, stoic and sharp in a tailored black suit, his hair ink-dark again and swept back like a painting. There was no mistaking him—Jae Eun, the man I had loved and left. He looked different. Not just in his appearance, but in his presence. Polished. Poised. Untouchable. Beside him stood his father, the infamous senator whose hatred leaked like poison through gilded teeth.

And still—Jae took my breath away.

I hadn't even realized my name had been called until applause surrounded me. My eyes snapped forward just in time to catch his gaze. His jaw clenched, his throat worked a hard swallow, and though his face remained impassive, his eyes—those deep, dark eyes—were wounded.

I accepted my degree with a smile as false as gold foil. Every step off that stage felt like trudging through a dream. My skin prickled; I could feel the heat of his gaze burning through fabric, muscle, marrow. I didn't look back. I couldn't. I slipped out of the hall as quietly as I could, weaving through the crowd, desperate to escape before the gravity of him pulled me under again.

But gravity is unrelenting.

I had just reached the edge of the parking lot when a hand caught my wrist and spun me around.

"Jae, what are—"

I never got to finish.

His mouth found mine in an instant, a kiss not of apology, but of desperation. Of two souls crashing together after wandering too long apart. He kissed me like I was the last air on Earth, and I melted into him, my arms climbing his shoulders like vines.

When he pulled back, breathless, his forehead pressed against mine. "Athena," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Forgive me. I can't—I've wanted this. You. I've needed you. Every day."

My body betrayed me before my lips could answer. I kissed him again, harder this time, my hands dragging down the firm lines of his chest. His hands slipped to my hips, drawing me closer, and I was gone.

"Wait," he murmured, though his lips brushed my ear. "Not here..."

He swept me into his arms without waiting for my protest, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to his neck. He carried me to his car, set me down gently in the back seat, then shut the door. He rounded to the front, slid into the driver's seat, and pulled the car farther into the lot—secluded, shielded.

"Stay there," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm before he could move again. I climbed over the center console and settled onto his lap. Straddling him. Claiming him.

The heat between us was molten. Ancient.

My hands unbuttoned his shirt slowly, reverently, as though he were sacred. He slipped off his jacket, shrugged out of his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. I unzipped my gown and revealed the pink dress beneath, the fabric clinging to curves he once knew like his own heartbeat. My breasts nearly spilled into his face, and his breath hitched as he pushed the dress to my hips.

He didn't need to speak. His eyes said everything. Worship. Hunger. Devotion.

I undid his belt with trembling fingers, unzipped his pants, and slipped my hand inside. He exhaled sharply, his head falling back, mouth parted in a moan that made my skin bloom with goosebumps.

"Athena," he groaned, my name like a hymn on his lips.

Our clothes vanished between breaths. I lifted myself and sank onto him, slow and aching, both of us crying out in gasps of forgotten pleasure. My arms wrapped around him. My lips found his neck. I rocked against him with purpose, and he held me like a man drowning, desperate for air.

Then his restraint crumbled.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, and he thrusted into me with such urgency that I gasped against his skin. He moved faster, deeper, louder. Groaning, grunting, breaking apart. We were no longer bodies. We were soul and fire, stars colliding in a burst of raw electricity.

In those moments, there was no car. No world. No rules. Only us—devouring, worshipping, becoming.

When the tremors faded, I collapsed into his chest, limbs trembling. He reclined the seat, wrapping me in his warmth, his heart thudding against mine. His eyes closed, his fingers brushing my spine.

"Athena," he murmured, barely louder than breath. "You belong to me. I don't care how mad you are—I'll take your rage. I'll take your silence. But don't leave me again. I can't bear it."

I tucked my face against his throat, eyes closing.

"I can't bear it either," I whispered.

He smiled against my hair and kissed my forehead like a vow.

And in that parked car, hearts still thundering, our bodies undone, we both knew: this thing between us was no longer a fleeting romance. It was war and peace. It was fire and breath. It was home.

We didn't know what waited beyond the glass. But whatever it was—we would face it together. And we'd fight for this love, tooth and nail, because it was worth it.

It always had been.