Chapter 9: Lines We Pretend Not to See
851 Words
The rain started without warning.
Ji-eun stood under the narrow awning outside her apartment building, watching water pour down in uneven sheets. She hadn’t brought an umbrella. She usually checked the weather, but today her mind had been elsewhere—stuck on words that refused to leave her head.
Be careful around me.
She let out a quiet laugh, bitter and tired. If only feelings came with warnings loud enough to hear before it was too late.
A black sedan pulled up to the curb.
She didn’t need to look twice.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up—heart tightening, breath hitching slightly. The car door opened, and Kang Hyun-woo stepped out, rain immediately darkening the shoulders of his coat.
“Sir?” she said, genuinely surprised.
He closed the door behind him. “You didn’t answer your phone.”
She reached into her bag, pulling it out. The screen lit up with several missed calls. “I—I didn’t hear it. I’m sorry.”
He studied her for a moment, rain dripping from his hair, his expression tense. “Why are you standing out here?”
“It’s raining,” she replied, almost defensively.
“I can see that.”
There was a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of rain hitting concrete.
“Get in the car,” he said.
She hesitated. “Sir, that’s not necessary—”
“It’s raining,” he repeated, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Something in his voice made it hard to argue. She nodded and stepped forward.
The inside of the car was warm, quiet, smelling faintly of coffee and something distinctly him. Ji-eun clasped her hands together on her lap, suddenly aware of how close they were.
He handed her a towel from the back seat. “Dry your hair.”
“Thank you.”
Their fingers brushed for just a second.
It was nothing. And yet, it felt like everything.
They drove in silence for several minutes.
Streetlights blurred past the windows, reflected in the rain. Ji-eun stole a glance at him. His jaw was tight, eyes focused on the road, knuckles pale against the steering wheel.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said softly.
“Yes, I did.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. “Because I was worried.”
The word hung between them, heavy and undeniable.
Ji-eun swallowed. “Sir… earlier, you said I should be careful around you.”
His grip on the wheel tightened. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did.”
He exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “There are things in my life that don’t end well. People get hurt.”
“Are you saying you’d hurt me?” she asked quietly.
He glanced at her then, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name. “I’m saying I don’t trust myself not to.”
Her chest ached. “That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
The car stopped at a red light. For a brief moment, they were trapped in stillness.
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” she said, surprising even herself.
His brows knit together. “Ji-eun—”
“I’m not asking for anything,” she continued, voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I just want honesty.”
The light turned green. He drove on.
“You’re right,” he said after a long pause. “I’ve been unfair.”
Her heart raced. “Then tell me the truth.”
He hesitated. “Not tonight.”
Disappointment flickered across her face before she could hide it.
“But soon,” he added. “I promise.”
He dropped her off in front of her building.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Neither of them moved to open their door.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said.
He nodded. “Get some rest.”
She opened the door, then stopped. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
She met his gaze, her eyes searching. “Whatever you’re afraid of… you don’t have to face it alone.”
For a moment, he looked like he might say something—something real.
Instead, he said, “Goodnight, Ji-eun.”
She stepped out, the door closing softly behind her.
From the balcony of her apartment, she watched the car disappear down the street, a strange mix of hope and frustration settling in her chest.
Across the city, Hyun-woo stood in his apartment, jacket tossed aside, staring at his phone.
Her name glowed on the screen.
He closed his eyes.
Soon, he had said.
But the truth he carried wasn’t simple. And once spoken, it would change everything between them.
He wasn’t sure if either of them was ready for that.
Yet no matter how hard he tried, one thing was clear:
The line he had drawn between them was fading.
And neither of them was truly stepping back anymore.
- Writer
