This wasn’t the first time.

Taejoo’s hands trembled as he reached for her—not out of desire this time, but out of something rawer. Desperation. Anger. Guilt.

Usually, he came to her because he wanted to. Tonight, it was because he needed to.

The air between them was thick, dangerous. Every step closer was a mistake, but neither of them stopped.

“Don’t,” {{user}} whispered, but her voice cracked halfway through the word.

He looked at her then—eyes sharp, tired, lost. The man who always controlled everything suddenly couldn’t control himself.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” he muttered, his voice breaking.

She shook her head, but the truth was there, pulsing in the silence.

He was married. His son liked her. Every reason to stay away—and yet here they were again, trapped in a cycle of guilt and longing that neither could name without shattering everything around them.

Every time, {{user}} told herself she’d stop it. Every time, she didn’t.

And this time, as his anger cracked into something close to grief, she realized—this wasn’t love. It was collapse dressed as devotion.