Chapter 17: Boundaries
They didn't say much during dinner.
Seo-Ah had offered to cook, and though Min-Jun tried to wave it off with a dry "There's staff for that," she was already in the kitchen, opening cabinets with quiet determination.
He sat at the kitchen island, watching her move through the space like she belonged there.
She didn't try to impress him with anything elaborate. Just a simple rice porridge with mushrooms, scallions, and a soft-boiled egg—something soothing for his recovering body.
Min-Jun didn't complain. Didn't pretend to enjoy it more than he did. But he finished every spoonful.
"Did you cook like this often?" he asked after a while.
Seo-Ah shrugged, rinsing a pan. "Not really. My mom used to say I cooked like I was solving a puzzle. Too precise."
"Your mother sounds like she had opinions."
"She had plenty," Seo-Ah replied, smiling faintly. "Especially when it came to me being 'too soft-hearted' or 'too stubborn.'"
A beat passed.
Min-Jun lowered his spoon. "You remind me of someone I knew when I was young."
"Yeah?"
He didn't answer at first. His eyes had gone distant again, the weight of memory softening the sharp lines of his face.
"She used to bring me flowers every week. I hated them. But I never told her." He smirked to himself. "She thought she was brightening up my room. But she didn't know I liked things... controlled. Minimal. Predictable."
Seo-Ah tilted her head, studying him. "And did you ever tell her?"
"No." He looked up at her. "I didn't want her to stop."
That silence returned—thick but not heavy. Comfortable but tense with all the things they weren't saying.
After the dishes were done, Seo-Ah disappeared into her guest room for a shower while Min-Jun sat near the wide window, a book open on his lap but unread.
The night had deepened into its quietest hours when she emerged again in an oversized shirt and shorts, hair damp and curling near her collarbone. She paused when she saw him still awake.
"You don't sleep much, do you?"
Min-Jun glanced up from the book. "I don't like dreams."
Seo-Ah walked over to the window, arms crossed as she stood beside him. "Sometimes dreams help. Sometimes they just confuse things."
"Mine usually drag me back."
His voice had gone hoarse. Raw.
She looked at him, waiting, not pushing.
Min-Jun closed the book slowly, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"When I was seventeen, my brother—my half-brother—crashed one of our cars. Drunk. He didn't make it." He swallowed. "My father made sure no one knew it wasn't me behind the wheel."
Seo-Ah's breath caught.
"I was the heir," Min-Jun continued. "He said it was better for me to take the fall than for our name to be tied to scandal. I went away for a while. Long enough for the media to spin the narrative. I came back different."
Seo-Ah sat slowly beside him, not touching, just close.
"I've never told anyone that," he admitted.
"Why me?" she asked softly.
He looked at her. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Because I think... if anyone could hold it without turning it into a weapon—it's you."
A pause.
Seo-Ah leaned her head gently on his shoulder. He didn't move away.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured.
And for the first time in years, Min-Jun believed it.
They sat there until sleep finally crept in—subtle and quiet. He drifted off right there, with her against him, the past still wrapped around him, but lighter now. Just slightly.
Seo-Ah didn't move.
Behind them, the lights of Seoul blinked like faraway stars. But inside, under this roof he once called hollow, something had changed.
The sunlight streamed in through the curtains the next morning, painting the room in a soft golden light. Min-Jun woke slowly, the haze of sleep clouding his thoughts, before he felt the warmth beside him. Seo-Ah hadn't moved since the night before, her head still resting on his shoulder. Her hair had dried into soft waves, the strands brushing against his skin.
For a long moment, he just watched her, lost in the quiet. A part of him was still uncertain about the comfort of this—the ease of it. He wasn't used to letting anyone get this close. And yet, here she was, an anchor he didn't know he needed.
He carefully shifted, not wanting to wake her just yet. But as soon as he sat up, the sound of footsteps in the hallway startled both of them.
Seo-Ah stirred, blinking groggily as Min-Jun stood. He quickly moved toward the door, but before he could open it, there was a sharp knock.
"Min-Jun," his mother's voice came through the wood. "We need to talk."
He stiffened. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his family, especially after the fragile truce they had seemed to reach just the day before.
Seo-Ah's eyes widened, and she rose to her feet, her movements graceful despite the grogginess. "I should go," she whispered, but Min-Jun held up a hand.
"No. Stay," he said, a rare edge to his voice.
He crossed the room quickly and opened the door, revealing his mother standing there, looking more composed than ever, though the worry in her eyes had not disappeared.
"We're having breakfast," she said curtly, "and your father wants to talk to you about the company's strategy. It's time you stopped hiding."
Min-Jun's jaw tightened, and he glanced at Seo-Ah, still standing in the corner of the room. Her eyes met his, and there was a fleeting sense of understanding in the look they exchanged.
His mother followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Miss Seo-Ah is here?"
Seo-Ah nodded politely, standing straighter, though her nerves were evident. She had no intention of intruding, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"I'll make myself scarce," she murmured, her voice steady, even though her insides churned with uncertainty.
Min-Jun stepped forward before she could take a step back. "No." His tone was firm. "You're staying."
His mother's brows shot up, and she gave him a long look, trying to gauge his intent. Min-Jun held her gaze. There was no backing down.
"I don't have time for games, Min-Jun," his mother said, her voice lowering to something more dangerous. "You'll lose your place if you're not careful. And you're already treading thin ice."
Min-Jun met her gaze, unwavering. "Maybe I've already lost my place. But I'm not playing by your rules anymore. Not when it comes to Seo-Ah."
The words hung in the air, each one heavier than the last. His mother opened her mouth as if to speak but stopped, blinking in shock, before turning her gaze back to Seo-Ah.
"Well, then." She sighed, an edge to her voice. "Perhaps I've underestimated you."
Seo-Ah didn't know how to respond to the sudden turn of events. The weight of Min-Jun's declaration was still settling on her, but she met his mother's eyes with calm grace, unsure of the exact message she was supposed to convey.
Min-Jun's mother finally nodded and stepped back. "This isn't over," she warned, before turning and leaving with a quiet click of the door behind her.
Seo-Ah remained still, her heart racing. She hadn't expected such a dramatic turn.
Min-Jun leaned against the door frame, exhaling heavily as if the encounter had drained him more than the physical recovery he was still undergoing. He turned back to Seo-Ah, his eyes troubled.
"That didn't go how I expected," he murmured.
Seo-Ah crossed the room toward him, her footsteps hesitant but purposeful. "You don't need to keep defending me."
Min-Jun looked at her, confusion flickering in his gaze. "It's not about defending you, Seo-Ah. It's about..."
"Being true to yourself," she finished for him, her voice soft yet resolute.
Min-Jun stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many emotions he didn't know how to articulate.
But instead, he just reached for her hand. "Stay."
Her chest tightened at the rawness of his request, and for a moment, she almost forgot how to breathe.
"I'm not going anywhere," she replied, her voice steady but full of unspoken promises.
And for the first time in a long while, Min-Jun believed her.
---
Later that Day:
The tension in the Lee family household didn't dissipate. After the confrontation with his mother, Min-Jun had withdrawn further into himself, retreating to the quietest corners of his thoughts. His father had not spoken a word about the incident, but Seo-Ah had noticed the tightness in his jaw and the silent fury in his gaze when they passed one another in the hall.
Min-Jun was lost in his own thoughts, sitting in the living room, staring out the window as though waiting for some revelation to come to him.
His phone buzzed on the table beside him, and Seo-Ah, who had been sitting across from him, glanced at the screen. Her brows furrowed when she saw Ji-Hyun's name.
"I think you should answer it," Seo-Ah said quietly.
Min-Jun didn't look at her. He just reached for the phone and swiped to answer it, holding it to his ear without a word.
"Min-Jun," Ji-Hyun's voice came through clearly, cool and collected as ever. "You have time to meet with me, don't you?"
Min-Jun hesitated, his gaze hardening. "What do you want?"
"I think you already know," Ji-Hyun said, her voice lilting with a touch of something darker beneath the calm. "There are... things we need to discuss. In person."
Not interested.
What about your secret?
What are you talking about?