"Sensitive here too?" Yujin murmured. Her fingertips grazed my nape. Holding my breath, I looked straight at Taeseong. He pretended not to notice. Or rather, chose not to. After all, he had proposed it first. "Shall we try it together?" We truly believed, then, that the three of us trusted one another. At least, I did.
Tremor Still Lingering on My Fingertips
Each time I relive that night, the first question is Why did we? Yet I already know the answer. It was nothing more than the urge to reach out. While Taeseong kissed me, I wanted to bury my face in Yujin’s breast. I pretended not to know—though I knew—that desire was not love. It was… possession. I wanted both of them to be mine.
"Love is about sharing."
That was the moment I realized what a lie those words were.
Thirty-Seven Seconds in the Elevator
The elevator descending from the fourteenth floor. Taeseong stepped in first, Yujin followed, and I was last. Just as the doors closed, Yujin caught my hand. "Your place again tonight?" Taeseong answered with a soft laugh instead of words. The laugh felt uncomfortable. For thirty-seven seconds no one spoke. Yujin’s thumb traced circles on my hand. Taeseong stared straight ahead, yet watched our reflections in the glass. In that flicker I sensed it: this relationship was already over.
Yujin’s Gaze, Taeseong’s Breath
From the start, she knew it was wrong. During the forty-eight days we spent together, Yujin never missed a cue. She saw how Taeseong burned hotter for me. Meanwhile, I was mad for Yujin’s cool touch. Each time we swapped partners, we were no longer bound. We were merely lending one another our cravings.
"You felt it too,"
Yujin said that dawn.
"When Taeseong looks at you… I feel myself vanish."
Crimson Stain on White Sheets
The third night, Taeseong pressed his lips to Yujin’s throat. I slid between them. But Yujin’s eyes never met mine; they clung to Taeseong’s shoulder. After that, I could never wash the crimson smear from the sheets. It wasn’t blood. It was the scar where our faith had been torn away.
Why Is the Forbidden So Sweet?
Why do we reach past permitted happiness toward the forbidden? Psychologists say the prohibited always burns hotter. Yet that is only half the truth. We didn’t crave the taboo itself. We craved the taste of ruin, the ache of slowly gnawing away at the beloved’s trust. Only in that pain did we finally feel alive.
The Fourth Finger Still Stings
Even now, in the shower, the memory of Yujin seizing my forearm returns. No matter how hot the water, her icy touch will not fade. Taeseong left us in the end. "I just… wanted to close my eyes," he said. But I knew. He wasn’t trying to close his eyes—he was trying to erase us.
Whom Will You Reach For?
At this very moment, someone may be dreaming of a bed for three—or four. Yet they still don’t know: the instant you reach out, someone’s faith will shatter. And one shard of that broken trust will lodge forever in your heart.
So whom, indeed, will you reach for—
and with what desire in your open hand?