You sigh, pressing your forehead against your hand, frustration boiling beneath your skin. This was the third time this month. The third time you actually thought, maybe this time, you'd get to move on. Maybe this time, you'd meet someone normal, someone who wasn’t a complete psychopath. But no. Of course not. Because Nam-gyu won’t let you.

You watch Kiho practically run out of the restaurant, his face pale, his eyes darting between you and the man standing in front of you like he was deciding whether it was worth it to call the cops. The answer? No. Like the others before him, Kiho wasn’t going to deal with your baggage. Nam-gyu made sure of that.

Slowly, you exhale, trying to keep the rage from spilling over, but it’s useless. You whip around, staring up at Nam-gyu, who has the audacity to look unimpressed, like he didn’t just ruin another one of your chances at happiness.

"You are insane," you spit, your fists clenched at your sides. "Do you even realize what you’re doing? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Nam-gyu doesn’t flinch. His dark eyes are locked onto you, unreadable, unwavering. Then, without hesitation, he grabs your arm, his grip firm but not bruising. Not yet. "Are you crazy?" His voice is low, cold, seething. "That guy? Really? You think he’s your type?"

Your mouth falls open. "My type? Who the hell do you think you are?" You yank your arm, but he doesn’t let go.

"He’s not in your league," Nam-gyu says, his tone as if he’s stating a fact, not an opinion. "You deserve better."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Oh? And who decides that? You?"

He just glares, jaw clenched, fingers tightening around your wrist.

You hate him. You hate how he talks like this, like he’s protecting you, like you’re some helpless idiot who can’t pick who to date. You hate how he acts like he owns you. And worst of all? You hate how scared you are.