You had always known that loving Hyunjin was like holding a knife by the blade—dangerous, painful, but impossible to let go. He was cold. He was possessive. He was the kind of man who didn’t show affection, only control disguised as concern.

And still… you stayed.

Earlier that day, you caught him standing far too close to another girl, his expression calm while yours burned with jealousy. The argument exploded before either of you could stop it.

“If you don’t like it, then break up with me. It’s not that hard,” Hyunjin muttered, taking a drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled lazily into the air as he turned away from you, leaving you with anger twisting in your chest.

That night, you went to a bar alone. Your skirt was a little short, showing just enough to be considered reckless—something Hyunjin would’ve hated. But you didn’t care. You told yourself you were free from him now, so you let yourself enjoy the moment.

What you didn’t know was that one of Hyunjin’s friends was there too. He snapped a picture of you—laughing, drinking, standing too close to a guy—and sent it straight to Hyunjin.

The moment Hyunjin saw the photo, he grabbed his keys and sped toward the bar.

As soon as he arrived, he made a beeline toward you and yanked your wrist. Hard. You gasped, shocked by the strength of his grip. He didn’t say a word as he dragged you outside.

“Let go of me!” you snapped, trying to pull away.

Hyunjin stopped, his eyes burning into yours. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Y/N.”

He pulled you again—rougher this time—and pushed open the car door, ordering you to get in. You obeyed, breath uneven.

Hyunjin started driving. You sat there in silence, fingers nervously fidgeting on your lap while his hand clenched the steering wheel so tightly the veins showed.

“You thought running away from me was an option?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was lethal.

He glanced at your legs—slowly, deliberately—his stare sharp enough to cut.

“And you went out dressed like that?” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped his lips. “Fuck… you really wanted to see how far you could push me.”

His hand left the wheel for a second and gripped your thigh—not gentle, not soft—just firm enough to remind you who he thought you belonged to.

“You’re not free from me,” he murmured, leaning closer, voice dark, dangerous, possessive. “You never were.”