Forbidden Desire

I had never before witnessed Jason in such a state; his body appeared to tense up, adjusting his posture as if preparing to bow to some queen or similar figure. His mother’s gaze bore into us, and the way her eyes scrutinized me from head to toe conveyed a palpable sense of disdain. It seemed that today was officially designated as National Disdain Jane Day, a memo I had missed. The feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time intensified, a sensation familiar whenever I found myself in Jason’s company. It was akin to accidentally stumbling into an exclusive VIP lounge, fearing imminent expulsion at any moment. Memories flooded in-of the scrutinizing looks from men the night before, echoes of the saleswoman’s recent body-shaming comments. Now, without uttering a word, Jason’s mother was vocally expressing her loathing towards me, her glare reducing me to the status of an inconsequential insect, urgently needing to be crushed. Tears welled up uncontrollably, each disdain-filled glance from her amplifying my sense of inadequacy.

“Jason? What is the meaning of this, with this…” She paused, swallowing hard, rolling her eyes before continuing with evident disdain. “This young lady?”

Jason hesitated, his gaze scanning me from top to bottom, evaluating my attire. Clad in jeans, a black shirt with a modest neckline, and white All-Star sneakers, I was acutely aware that my style deviated considerably from Korean fashion norms, let alone Jinhee’s signature look. But Jason had long been acquainted with my sartorial choices-since our first kiss, our outings to Loco’s burger joint, and even the intimacy we shared. So why had my clothing suddenly transformed into such a glaring issue?

“Mother, this is Jane, she is…”

“The maid.”

Her interruption was swift, Jason closing his eyes in response.

“Perhaps you ought to be scrubbing floors instead of gallivanting around with a married man, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her words struck like a bullet, a sharp reminder of my place in the hierarchy. Jason ran a hand across his face, a gesture of despair as he grappled with the unfolding situation.

“Go, girl! Depart this place at once; I wish to speak with my son!”

Her tone grew increasingly assertive, marking a level of humiliation I had never before experienced. Jason lowered his head, avoiding eye contact, a solitary tear tracing a path down his cheek-a tear I knew was not shed for me, a poignant reminder of my status solely as a servant. Her gaze bore down on me, an unspoken demand for my disappearance. As my legs found their resolve to move once more, I fled the scene, blinded by tears and emotional turmoil, barely cognizant of my destination. Jason’s distant voice called out to me, a faint echo that left me questioning whether it was a genuine summons or merely a figment of my desperate imagination.

My heart raced as I ascended a nearby stairway, each step a desperate bid to distance myself from the distress unfolding below. Muscles aflame, I flung open the terrace door, tears obscuring my vision, craving the solace of fresh air to temper the constriction in my throat. Bursting through the door, I inadvertently collided with a figure, instinctively reaching out to prevent their fall, only to end up sprawled on top of them.

In that moment, our eyes locked mere inches apart-startling, intense gazes meeting with an air of surprise and curiosity. His features were strikingly handsome, his orange-tinted hair framing his face, lips seemingly molded by an artist’s hand. Yet, amidst his physical allure, all I could focus on were his captivating, slanted eyes and the enchanting fragrance exuding from his being. Moments passed in silence before one of my tears inadvertently landed on his dark green coat, jolting him from our shared reverie. Anticipating a rebuff, I was instead met with his gentle response-he raised himself slightly, remaining seated with me perched atop him, his thumb tenderly wiping away my tears, leaving me utterly spellbound.

My prone position atop a stranger, whom I had inadvertently toppled, should have evoked reproach or rebuke. Yet, he exhibited only concern, his gentle touch amplifying the intensity of my emotions, triggering a renewed torrent of tears. Sensing my distress, he drew me into a comforting embrace, allowing me to release all the pent-up sobs and anguish, finding solace in his comforting presence. Unmoving, he exuded a sense of calm, his rhythmic breathing a soothing backdrop as his fingers caressed my hair, offering a sense of security akin to a lost child finding sanctuary. Gradually, the intrusion of onlookers registered, yet I remained unable to meet their gaze, seeking refuge in the shelter provided by this stranger turned sudden haven. Sensing my shame, he removed his coat, enfolding me within its comforting embrace.

Guiding me to my feet, my legs trembled from the emotional tumult that had unfolded. Veiling my face with his coat, he led me away, and I followed, devoid of thought or apprehension-an act of blind trust and vulnerability in a precarious situation. His footsteps guided us to what seemed like a closed establishment; pushing through the door, I discovered it to be a bustling restaurant, save for a small group of patrons seated at a nearby table. Startled by our entrance, one of them inquired:

“What’s going on? Who is this?”

The man accompanying me drew a deep breath before issuing a firm directive, “Please depart.”

His tone, though composed, brooked no argument. Amidst the confusion that clouded the group, one attempted to interject, only to be swiftly silenced.

“I ask that you vacate this place. Please!”

Seating me on a sofa-like bench, he settled beside me, his arm offering a reassuring anchor in the midst of the chaos. Despite the peculiarity of our situation, beneath his touch, I found a semblance of security. As the other patrons exchanged whispers and exited, his voice cut through the silence.

“A chamomile tea, please!”

He beckoned a staff member, his gentle strokes grazing my hair. I realized I had been clutching at his shirt since our earlier collision, yet, despite this awareness, I found myself unable to let go. Minutes drifted by in tranquil silence, until the arrival of the tea, proffered with a soft reassurance.

“Here! Take a sip; it will help calm your nerves.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.