A Line nearly crossed

The room hung heavy with the scent of soju and unspoken tension. Ji-ho's gaze hadn't left me since he leaned back, his lips curved in a teasing smile that seemed to challenge my resolve.

"I mean it," he murmured, his voice soft but certain.

I looked away, trying to find something, anything, to break the weight of his words. "Ji-ho… this is—"

Before I could finish, his hand found mine again, his fingers warm and slightly rough as they curled around my wrist.

"Don't say it," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "Just… don't."

The words hit me harder than they should have. I turned to look at him, and the moment my eyes met his, something in the air shifted. Ji-ho's expression was unreadable—somewhere between vulnerability and defiance.

"I don't want to stop," he said, leaning closer, his breath warm and tinged with alcohol.

"Ji-ho…" I started, but my voice betrayed me, cracking under the weight of the moment.

"Yoon-seo," he said softly, his voice laced with a faint hum, almost as if testing the weight of my name. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. His eyes searched mine, asking a question I wasn't sure I could answer.

Before I knew it, his lips brushed mine—lightly at first, hesitant, as if he expected me to pull away. But I didn't.

The kiss deepened, his movements growing bolder as his hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. I let out a soft sound—half protest, half surrender—that only seemed to encourage him.

His other hand slid up my arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. My own hands, which had been resting awkwardly in my lap, found their way to his chest, my fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

"Ji-ho," I murmured against his lips, my voice barely audible.

He responded with a low hum, the sound vibrating against my skin as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the alcohol.

The tension in the air grew heavier as his lips trailed down to my jawline, then to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made my breath hitch.

"Yoon-seo," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with something I couldn't quite place.

Before I could respond, the sharp sound of a door opening shattered the moment.

"Oh! I—"

The maid's voice froze us in place. Ji-ho pulled back abruptly, his face flushed and his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Uh…" The maid stammered, her eyes wide as she clutched a tray of folded linens to her chest. "I didn't mean to interrupt—"

"Then don't," Ji-ho snapped, his voice harsher than I'd ever heard it. He stood abruptly, his towering figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim light.

"Don't tell my mother about this," he added, his tone icy. "If you do, you'll lose your job. Do you understand?"

The maid's face turned pale, her lips trembling. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," she said quickly, bowing her head before scurrying out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I pushed myself to my feet, my heart pounding as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Ji-ho, we need to stop this."

His eyes softened as he looked at me, but there was still a hint of stubbornness in his expression. "Why? Yoon-seo, I—"

"Because this isn't right," I interrupted, my voice firmer now. "I'm your therapist. This… this crosses every line."

Ji-ho ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "You're not just my therapist, Yoon-seo. You're…" He trailed off, his voice faltering.

"I'm leaving," I said quickly, gathering my things. My hands trembled, but I forced myself to keep moving.

"Wait." Ji-ho grabbed my wrist again, his grip firm but not forceful. "Yoon-seo… don't go."

I hesitated, my resolve wavering for just a moment. But the weight of the situation was too much to ignore.

"This isn't about what I want, Ji-ho," I said, my voice softer now. "It's about what's right."

His hand fell away, and he took a step back, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, though the gesture felt hollow. "Goodnight, Ji-ho," I said, my voice trembling as I turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I let out a shaky breath, the cool night air hitting my face as I stepped outside. My heart was still racing, and my mind was a whirlwind of emotions I couldn't quite name.

But one thing was certain—things could never go back to the way they were.

The night stretched on, but sleep eluded both Ji-ho and Yoon-seo. The weight of their earlier closeness lingered, filling the silence with an unspoken tension.

Yoon-seo avoided Ji-ho's gaze as they sat across from each other at the dining table. Her fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of her sleeve. She couldn't forget how her professionalism had slipped the night before.

"Did you sleep well?" Ji-ho asked, his voice casual, but his eyes carried a mischievous glint.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I… didn't sleep much."

"Neither did I," Ji-ho said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was low and teasing, sending a shiver down her spine. "Wonder why."

"Let's focus on your session," she said quickly, straightening her posture and trying to reclaim her authority. She glanced at her notes, but the words blurred. "How have you been managing your thoughts lately?"

Ji-ho smirked, his sharp jawline making him look even more alluring. "You mean since last night? Let's just say… you've been on my mind."

Yoon-seo's breath hitched, and she quickly looked away, her professionalism crumbling under the weight of his intense gaze. "Ji-ho, we should keep things… professional."

"Professional?" Ji-ho echoed, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped, and his words were tinged with playful challenge. "Yoon-seo, I think we crossed that line already."

"Ji-ho!" she snapped, though her voice lacked conviction. She stood abruptly, needing to put distance between them. "This isn't appropriate."

He didn't flinch at her tone. Instead, he chuckled softly, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're cute when you're flustered."

She turned her back to him, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Let's stick to the session," she said firmly. "This is about your therapy, not… whatever this is."

"Fine," Ji-ho said, though the smirk never left his face. "But you should know, Yoon-seo… last night wasn't just the alcohol doing."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she turned to face him, her cheeks burning. "Ji-ho, stop. This is your therapy, and I'm your therapist. That's it."

He stood, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His voice softened, losing its teasing edge. "Is it really just that?"

Yoon-seo froze, her heart pounding as his gaze locked onto hers. The air between them grew thick, charged with tension. She took a step back, her voice trembling. "It has to be."

Ji-ho's lips curved into a small, sad smile. "If that's what you want."

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her emotions in turmoil. The faint sound of his footsteps echoed through the quiet house, a reminder of the line they couldn't afford to cross again.