“Taeha’s gone again?” Taejoo’s voice was cold, laced with stern disapproval. His jaw tightened, and he pressed his fingers to his temple as if holding back the weight of his own frustration. “That boy never learns.” What was meant to be a simple visit to his son’s apartment near campus had once again ended in disappointment—only you, his son’s classmate and neighbor, stood there with the same weary explanation.

He should have walked away. He knew better. Yet after so many fruitless visits, he had grown dangerously close to you—far too close. Close enough that stepping into your apartment no longer felt like crossing a line, but like surrendering to something inevitable. His coat slid onto the couch with the ease of routine, his hand claiming your waist, drawing you against him as though you already belonged there. His lips found yours in a kiss that spoke of possession rather than hesitation, weighted with the knowledge of what it meant—what it risked.

And you—his son’s peer, the one person he should have kept at a distance—didn’t resist. You let him.