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"You know, it all feels very intimate... like it's going somewhere." I paused, bitterness creeping in. "But it isn't."

"Why not?" Yujin asked softly.

"Because he clearly doesn't trust me. I still don't even know his last name," I whispered harshly, turning my head to make sure no one was listening. "I don't know the name of the company he works for—or if he even owns it like he says he does! And that's not even the worst part."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the call before Yujin asked gently, "What's the worst part, y/n?"

I lowered my voice even more, almost ashamed to say it aloud. "It's like he goes out of his way to make sure I don't know anything about him. When he talks about work, he'll literally stop himself from saying the company name. I only know it's something to do with gaming because Layla mentioned it one time, probably by accident."

Yujin hummed. "Maybe he's just not good at opening up?"

I knew she was trying to play devil's advocate, and I appreciated it—really—but it wasn't that simple.

"I don't think that's it," I said quietly. "I think it's a trust issue."

"And how does that make you feel?" she asked gently.

I smiled faintly at how Yujin always sounded like a therapist when she was trying to help. "Like I'm a fool for thinking this could've been more than... whatever the hell it is now."

Maybe he does have trust issues... but am I even worth the risk to him?

The thought hit me harder than I expected. Like a quiet punch to the chest. I wasn't asking for much—not his past, not his scars—but just the truth of who he is now. His real name, his real life, his reality. That didn't seem like too much to ask, not when I'd laid bare so much of myself already.

I'd opened up to him. Emotionally, physically—hell, even spiritually, in the way only someone desperate to believe in the potential of something could. And yet here I was, choking on the silence he left in place of honesty.

Am I doing something wrong?
Is it foolish to pour my heart into someone who's always half-turned away from me?

It wasn't like I hadn't known better. I told myself I was too smart to fall for someone who couldn't meet me where I stood. But he'd made it feel easy, natural. He kissed me like he needed me. He looked at me like I mattered. But every time I reached just a little deeper, just one inch closer to who he truly was, I hit a wall. Solid and cold and unmoving.

And it made me wonder—is it me?
Was I just a temporary warmth in his cold world? A beautiful distraction from the grief and ghosts he carried?

I didn't want to be someone's escape. I wanted to be someone's choice.

But what if I wasn't enough for that?

What if he never lets me in—not because he's broken... but because he never planned to?

"Y/N? Y/N..."
I blinked, snapping out of my spiraling thoughts at the sound of Yujin's voice.
"Yeah?"
"I was saying—trust takes time to build. You remember the mess Kai and I had to sort through before we got to where we are now, right?"

"Yeah, I remember." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "But this feels different, Yujin. He's not even giving me a chance. It's like he's already made up his mind about me. Like I'm someone he can't trust with even the basic things—like his full name or what the hell he actually does for a living."

Not just that—he thought I was the kind of woman who chased status. That I was drawn to shiny things instead of people. That said more about what he assumed about me than what he actually knew.

Yujin let out a soft sigh. "Sometimes men with money get weird about people's intentions. You know that."

"Exactly!" I snapped, frustrated. "And if he still thinks I'm one of those people, after everything I've shared with him... then he really doesn't know me at all."

And yet I still cared. Still waited. Still hoped. And I hated that part the most.

"It's a hard habit to break," Yujin offered sympathetically. "Kai told me about the nannies who tried to seduce him. The women who looked at him with dollar signs in their eyes. It creates a complex—and I mean, who wouldn't want Kai, with or without his millions?"

I laughed. "Spoken like a woman madly in love. Though I'll admit—your husband is smokin' hot."

"Right?" She laughed, a full, knowing sound that made me smile, until it faded. "But seriously, it made it really hard for him to trust me in the beginning. Remember when Alex came to visit?"

"The difference is that Kai was jealous, Yujin. He had real feelings for you and was afraid you might be using him. Jungkook hasn't even given me the chance to get that far." The realization hit harder than I expected. I sat up straight, the words sinking in. "You know what? I'm done worrying about it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," I stood and started pacing the length of my room, restless and on edge, "it means I can't keep seeing him—not when he clearly doesn't trust me, doesn't even want to know me."

"You have feelings for him, don't you?"

"No. Maybe. Hell, I don't know, Yujin. But I do know I can't throw myself into something that risky—with a man who can fire me." I paused, staring out the window into the quiet dark. "It would be worth it if it was going somewhere. But since it's not, it's definitely not worth it."

I could find sex anywhere. Casual. No strings. No risk. No emotional fallout. And more importantly, no risk to my job or my professional reputation.

"You've been a big help this time, Yujin."

"Thanks... I think?" she laughed, just as the faint sound of a baby whimpering echoed on her end. "Let me know how it goes, alright?" she added before ending the call.

I kept pacing, trying to burn off the frustration and sadness curling through my chest. From this moment forward, Jungkook was just my boss. Strictly professional. No more stolen kisses or heated whispers in the dark. No more toe-curling touches.

No more earth-tilting orgasms.

That stung. God, it did. But it had to be done. Sex was easy. That rare connection we had... that was the hard part.

But clearly, Jungkook didn't feel the same.

So, it was settled.

And I hated how lonely that felt.

Jungkook's POV

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?"

Once again, I found Y/N curled up on a lounger in the backyard, lost in the glow of her e-reader. Her legs were bare, skin catching the last stretch of the golden hour, and her hair was twisted in a messy bun that made my fingers twitch. I wanted to bury my hands in it and tug her head back until she was forced to see me.

But she didn't even flinch.

She looked up, those usually piercing eyes dull and withdrawn. "Just got one," she murmured, gesturing to the martini glass resting beside her on the table. Her voice was flat—polite, but impersonal—and she went right back to her book.

I hated it. The distance. The way she suddenly felt like a stranger in my own home. I sat on the edge of her lounger anyway, because fuck it, I couldn't not be close to her.

My hand went to her thigh—because touching her was a compulsion now—and I leaned forward. "What are you reading?"

"A book," she replied softly. "About a decades-long search for a serial killer. Want to borrow it when I'm done?"

I frowned, watching her eyes flicker but never linger on mine. Was she joking? I couldn't tell. And that alone told me something was off. This wasn't my Y/N.

"Something's wrong."

It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Y/N didn't play games. She called me out on my bullshit without hesitation, and now she was carefully avoiding everything—me most of all.

She closed her e-reader gently and turned to face me, those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes now clearer... but god, they were tired. "Nothing is wrong," she said calmly. "Just... clear."

My stomach dropped. That wasn't peace in her voice. That was resignation.

"That sounds ominous," I muttered, my hand still on her thigh, still moving slowly, wanting her body to say something her mouth wouldn't.

She took a breath. "I've been thinking, and..." She hesitated. "We need to go back to a professional relationship. Only professional."

The words sliced clean through me.

My fingers froze mid-stroke, gripping tighter. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," she said quickly—too quickly. Her voice was clipped, like she'd rehearsed this conversation a hundred times. "You're my boss."

"I've been your boss from the moment we met, Y/N. Why is it a problem now?"

She turned toward me, e-reader resting on her lap, her expression unreadable. "It's not a problem now, Jungkook. It's been a problem. I just ignored it because..." Her voice faltered. "Because you're very good at distracting me from what I don't know."

I straightened, my jaw tight. "You do know me, Y/N."

She shook her head. "No. I know pieces of you. Facts that might look good on a dating app or a press interview. But not you. Not the real you. I don't know your last name. I don't know where your pain comes from. I don't know who you are when you're not... this." She motioned at me—my tailored clothes, my curated answers, my whole fucking facade.

"And worse," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "you don't know me either. Not if you think I'm someone who would chase you for your money."

That hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

"I trust you with my niece," I said, defensive and raw. "How much more trust do you need?"

Her mouth parted, but no words came out. For a long second, she just stared at me.