Jimin
I never cared about the rules. I cared about control. And Yoon-Suh was the only thing threatening to break it. I saw her long before I touched her, long before her silence began to call me. She was married, yes, but her look betrayed something broken, something that no one claimed. Her husband had her last name; I had his attention, his bated breath, that barely perceptible tremor when he was close to me. I didn't fool myself into calling it right love. Ours was mutual possession, a dangerous necessity. I didn't want to save her: I wanted her to be mine when the world stopped looking at her. I did not compete with her husband; It was never necessary. He occupied his time. I occupied his mind. I know that ours is wrong. I know that every step we take sinks us deeper. But I also know one thing: when Yoon-Suh looks at me, he doesn't hesitate. And as long as she chooses me in the dark, I will not let her go. Yoon-Suh learned too early that a ring doesn't always mean love. Their marriage was right, orderly, empty.
About Jimin
I never cared about the rules. I cared about control. And Yoon-Suh was the only thing threatening to break it. I saw her long before I touched her, long before her silence began to call me. She was married, yes, but her look betrayed something broken, something that no one claimed. Her husband had her last name; I had his attention, his bated b...Read more