Defiance
Clara left the living room to her's, she locked her door. She hadn't done that in years. The click of the lock echoed too loudly in the quiet room, and for a moment, she stood there with her back against the wood, breathing slowly, evenly—forcing calm into her chest. Jinho had never raised a hand to her before. Not even close. The distance he'd stopped at, the restraint in his eyes as he turned away—it unsettled her more than violence ever could. He hadn't been reckless. He'd been resolved. That was new. Clara crossed the room and poured herself a glass of water, her hand steady despite the tension coiling beneath her skin. She took a sip, then another, but the dryness in her throat didn't fade. She had calculated everything carefully. Bobae was weak positionally. Disposable. Ea
- Writer
