Chapter 4 Na-ri and Jae-Hyun - Chapter 4

A week passed and the encounter with Jae-Hyun had haunted Na-ri like a vengeful ghost. At first she hadn't planned to go back at all but eventually had settled on requesting a new coach.

Lee Tae-Joon was all the things Jae-Hyun wasn't - a complete stranger with no personal vendettas. He was professional, polite, and he kept himself well and truly out of Na-ri's personal space.

"You're doing great, Na-ri." Tae grinned, eyes on the stop watch as they worked through the last few exercises. "Almost there!"

It had been easier in some ways to get through the session, the main one being that she wasn't being stripped down by snarky comments designed to cut. There was no hot breath on her neck, no hands squeezing until bruises threatened to form.

"And stop!" Tae grinned. "You did great today!"

"Thanks," she nodded, her muscles trembling from the exertion.

"Let me go grab those exercises I printed off. I want you to try and do them at least three times over the coming week." Tae grinned before heading towards the staff office.

Na-ri sighed, resting on her haunches for a few moments as exhaustion swept through her. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was still weak, still not quite strong enough to get back out in the streets. She had accepted that months ago but it didn't make the bitter taste it left in her mouth any better.

As Na-ri breathed through her exhaustion, the sound of the gym's heavy doors swinging open echoed through the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the air growing thick and oppressive once more.

Jae-Hyun stepped into the light, his presence cutting through the peaceful vibe Tae-Joon had established. He wasn't supposed to be here—not during her session—but he walked with a possessive confidence that suggested he owned every inch of the facility. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes scanning her trembling form with a look of cold, mocking amusement.

"Look at that," Jae-Hyun drawled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made her heart spike. "Trading a challenge for a cheerleader. I see you've found someone who likes to tell you you're doing 'great' while you're still shaking like a leaf."

He didn't look at Tae-Joon; his focus was entirely on Na-ri, his gaze lingering on the way she was hunched over, exhausted and vulnerable. A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips.

"Is this what you needed, Na-ri? Someone to hold your hand while you pretend to be recovered?"

She ignored him, her eyes on the floor.

Jae-Hyun’s eyes darkened as he realized she was choosing silence over engagement. He hated being ignored more than he hated her stubbornness. He stepped closer, his presence once again crowding her, the air around them suddenly feeling electric and suffocating.

"What's the matter, Na-ri? Lost your voice along with your nerve?" he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr that vibrated in the small space between them. He didn't care that Tae-Joon was just a few feet away in the office; he wanted her to feel his gaze on her, dissecting her.

He reached out, not to touch her this time, but to lean his hand against the wall behind her, effectively trapping her in his shadow. "You can hire a dozen different coaches to blow smoke up your ass, but you're still broken and we both know I'm the only one who knows exactly where it hurts."

He tilted his head, his dark eyes searching hers for a spark of anger—anything other than this cold avoidance. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

She stood quickly, eyes flashing in anger as her hand connected hard with his cheek.

The sound of the slap echoed sharply through the humid gym, a crisp crack that seemed to vibrate in the sudden silence. Jae-Hyun’s head snapped to the side, his cheek blooming a vivid red.

For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then, he slowly turned his face back to her, his expression unreadable, though a dark, dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. He didn't look angry; he looked stimulated. A slow, chilling smirk spread across his lips as he tasted the metallic tang of blood from where his tooth had caught his inner cheek.

"There she is," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that felt like a threat. "I was wondering when the real Na-ri would show up."

He stepped forward, closing the gap she had tried to create in a single, predatory motion. He didn't strike back; instead, he leaned in until his forehead almost touched hers, his breath hot against her skin.

"You're still so predictable," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips before locking back onto her eyes with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. "You only fight when you're terrified of how much you actually want this."

"You broke up with me, Jae." She pointed out. "You don't get to act all high and mighty. I chose another coach because you’re being unprofessional, not because I wanted someone to baby me."

There was a pause, a moment of white hot silence that threatened to combust if either of them let it.

"How's Min-hee?" She asked about Jae's new girlfriend, raising an eyebrow. "Does she know what you were up to in that studio last week?"

She shifted her weight, seeing Tae returning.

"Just stay out of my way, Jae." She warned. "Go back to your punching bags and foam rollers and leave me alone."

She pushed past him, walking to meet Tae-Joon half way.

Jae-Hyun’s expression hardened at the mention of Min-hee, his jaw tightening as the name left Na-ri's lips. The smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, piercing gaze that seemed to strip her bare. He didn't move as she pushed past him, but his voice trailed after her, low and laced with a bitter edge.

"Thank you for these Tae-Joon. I will take a look at them when I get home."

Jae-Hyun stood rooted to the spot, watching her interact with Tae-Joon. His eyes narrowed, tracing the way she smiled at the other man—a smile he hadn't seen directed at himself in over a year. The sight sparked a sudden, violent surge of possessiveness in his chest that he refused to acknowledge.

"Enjoy your handouts, Na-ri," he called out, his tone returning to that arrogant, detached drawl as he turned away. "But don't be surprised when you realise that 'polite' doesn't get you back on your feet."

He walked back toward the punching bags, each step heavy and deliberate. He didn't look back, but as he reached the leather bag and unleashed a thunderous strike that echoed through the gym, his knuckles bled through the wraps. He wasn't just hitting the bag; he was hitting the memory of her hand on his cheek and the lingering scent of her skin.