CHAPTER 28 – BETWEEN THE BREATHS
Seo-Ah
The elevator doors slid shut behind him, and the silence left in his wake was louder than any scream.
Seo-Ah pressed her palm against her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow. But it wouldn't. It kept pounding — desperate, chaotic — like it remembered what her mind kept trying to forget.
Min-Jun.
The sound of his voice. The way her name tasted different when he said it.
She hadn't meant to look at him. Not like that. Not with all the longing she'd buried clawing its way back to the surface. But three seconds. That was all it took to undo everything she'd stitched closed.
He was still hers. In the places no ring could reach.
She exhaled and leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the elevator wall. "Get it together," she whispered to herself.
But she already knew.
It was too late for that.
---
Min-Jun
By the time he reached his office, his control was already slipping.
He slammed the door shut, chest tight with restraint. One moment — one look — and the carefully built wall between them was crumbling.
He hadn't planned to go to the board meeting.
But when he saw her name on the attendance list, something pulled him there. Irrational. Dangerous. Unavoidable.
Now he was paying for it.
He could still see the flicker in her eyes — that hurt, that tenderness, that storm. The same storm he carried in himself.
Min-Jun loosened his tie and sat at the edge of his desk. Dong-Hwan's report was waiting, but his mind wasn't on strategy. It was on Seo-Ah. On how he had just stood in a metal box with her and barely kept from reaching out.
Touching her.
Saying something that couldn't be unsaid.
He hadn't meant to say her name.
But he had. Softly. Like a confession.
And now it haunted him.
---
Dong-Hwan's message blinked on screen.
Update: Jin-Woo's location confirmed. Private medical wing. Off-the-grid facility. Seoul outskirts. Security—tight. But not impenetrable.
Min-Jun narrowed his eyes. This was it.
He straightened, fingers steepling.
If he could take Jin-Woo — not hurt him, but control him — Yeon-Hwa would lose her power. Her arrogance. Her hold.
And maybe, maybe, he could finally end this game.
But he had to move carefully. One misstep, and Seo-Ah would be dragged into the crossfire again.
He couldn't let that happen.
---
Yeon-Hwa
That night, Yeon-Hwa stood on the balcony of their estate, wine in hand, eyes on the distant lights of Seoul.
She had seen the look on Min-Jun's face today.
She wasn't stupid.
Seo-Ah still lived under his skin.
It was a problem. A festering one.
Behind her, a shadow stepped out of the dark — her private guard. "There's movement around Facility 6," he said quietly. "We intercepted a drone. Unmarked. Military-grade."
Yeon-Hwa sipped her wine.
"Have the staff double security," she said. "And monitor all outgoing communications from the Lee Financial tower."
The guard nodded.
"And one more thing," she added, her voice smooth but lethal.
"If he touches my brother… I'll burn her to the ground."
---
Seo-Ah
The rain started around 9:00 p.m., steady and cold.
Seo-Ah didn't turn on the lights when she entered her apartment. She liked it this way now — dim, quiet, forgettable.
Her coat slid off her shoulders. Her heels hit the floor. She walked barefoot to the window and stared out into the night, feeling the storm mirror her insides.
Her phone vibrated against the table.
She ignored it.
Another text from Jae-Hyun? Another check-in?
Kind. Safe. Boring.
He was trying. She wasn't.
Because in the quiet, her heart only reached for one person.
She closed her eyes. Let the rain drown the ache.
But a knock on her door shattered the silence.
Three soft knocks.
Then a pause.
Then three again.
Her eyes flew open.
She knew that rhythm.
She ran to the door, heart lodged in her throat, and opened it—
Min-Jun stood there.
Drenched from the rain. Hair slicked back. Eyes dark. No umbrella. No bodyguard.
Just him.
Her breath caught.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"I shouldn't be," he said.
"Then go."
"I can't."
He looked at her, a thousand regrets in his expression.
"I just needed to see you again. Just once. Before I do something I might not come back from."
Seo-Ah
She stood frozen at the threshold, staring at the man who had once destroyed her world and somehow become the only person who made it feel real again.
The rain soaked through his suit. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something restrained for far too long. She should have closed the door. Pushed him back into the night.
But her heart… it didn't listen.
She stepped aside.
"Come in."
Min-Jun walked in slowly, the silence between them heavier than the storm outside. She shut the door behind him, and for a moment, neither spoke.
Seo-Ah turned, her voice low. "You said you couldn't come back from whatever you're planning. Why?"
His gaze locked onto hers. "Because to free myself from her, I have to become the kind of man you shouldn't love."
She didn't flinch. "You already did that. And I still—"
She stopped herself. Too late.
He closed the distance between them.
Rain dripped from his hair, his coat, the hem of his slacks. But he didn't move to dry off. He looked like he'd walked through hell to get to her — and maybe he had.
"I needed to see you," he said, voice husky. "Even if it was just once more."
Seo-Ah's chest rose sharply. "You're not just a memory to me, Min-Jun. You never were."
His hand came up — hesitant, trembling slightly — and cupped her face. She didn't pull away. Her skin sparked under his touch, like his fingertips knew her better than logic did.
"You almost died," he whispered. "Because of me."
"I lived," she whispered back. "Because of you."
Something inside him broke.
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was desperate. Raw. The kind of kiss that shattered walls and rewrote truths. She gasped into it, grabbing at his shirt, pulling him closer, anchoring herself to the man who had haunted every corner of her soul.
He kissed her like he was dying.
She kissed him like he was the only thing keeping her alive.
Clothes came off in pieces — wet fabric peeled away, trailing across the floor. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His mouth moved down her neck, her shoulder, reverent and aching. Every breath between them was ragged. Every touch unsteady, trembling with suppressed want.
He lifted her with ease, carrying her toward the bedroom like she was something precious — fragile and sacred.
And when he laid her down, it was slow. Like a prayer.
---
Later…
Their bodies still tangled in sheets, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, the rain softened into a whisper outside.
Min-Jun's voice was quiet in the dark.
"I don't know what happens after this. I may not come back the same."
Seo-Ah turned to face him, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Then come back to me broken. Just come back."
His eyes burned with unshed pain. "She'll try to destroy you."
"Let her try," Seo-Ah said softly. "I'm not scared anymore."
He exhaled like he hadn't breathed properly in weeks.
She leaned in, kissed him again — not like before, not desperate — but tender. Full of promise.
Whatever came next, they'd already chosen each other.
Even if the world tried to tear them apart again.
---
Meanwhile…
In a dimly lit surveillance room across town, a man in a leather jacket watched a grainy black-and-white feed of Seo-Ah's apartment hallway.
A figure entering. Wet. Familiar.
Lee Min-Jun.
The man lit a cigarette and smiled grimly.
He picked up a phone.
"She'll be interested in this."