I pushed open the door to the restaurant with hesitation slowing my every move. I had entered through the side door in order to be by the ‘to go’ section of the eatery, unlike the last time when I’d come in through the front. I had done it on purpose; a part of me wanted to see Jimin but another part was scared what seeing him would mean. As of right now, everything that had happened between us and the feelings that our meetings had engendered were all safely tucked away in my head. Nothing could be lost or gained if I did or said nothing about them. They could pass away into distant memories as I moved on with my life. And perhaps I wouldn’t regret it because already my mind pulsed out a warning of danger. But my heart felt something else entirely; it vibrated with possibility and the betraying organ had made me come in regardless of what was logical.

The place held several people seated around the dining room, the spacious area populated but not as full as it could have been. The diners talked in low murmurs and overall, the atmosphere was one of ease. I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was a little after the regular lunch hour; this was possibly as busy as it would get until further into the evening. I lingered by the to-go podium and fussed over the menu in front of me, not really reading it. Instead, all my senses were focused outward, my eyes narrowing to try and see what was happening and who was inside the glass walls that encased the kitchen. People bustled to and fro but the person I was looking for couldn’t be found. I suppressed my sigh of disappointment; perhaps none of it had meant anything, and nothing was meant to be.

“Back again?” A male voice teased from behind me, and I jerked forward in surprise, a small gasp leaving my lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of me apologized, his hand already steadying me when I would have tipped to the side and into the desk where orders were placed.

“I’m ok,” I smiled tremulously in response and the unknown man’s face crinkled in amusement.

“I’m glad. I should introduce myself, I’m TaeHyung Kim. I’m friends with Jimin.” He held out his hand for me to shake and I reached out to grip it lightly. He flashed a square smile in my direction, and I recognized that the same sort of naughtiness which permeated his grin also lingered in Jimin’s. Taller than his friend and with messily tousled hair that fell around his ears, TaeHyung was dressed comfortably in loose clothing, the baggy sweater, vest and cotton pants combo in earth tones giving grandpa chic.

“Are you here to eat or to see Jimin?” He questioned me bluntly, as if the distinction needed to be made. I found myself stuck, not sure how best to answer.

“Both, I guess,” I managed to stutter, feeling heat rising into my cheeks.

“Great, take a seat over here and I’ll bring him over for you.” He gestured to the built-in couch and I sat reluctantly. TaeHyung was gone before I knew it, taking large strides through the restaurant and to a back area that I hadn’t noticed before. I fidgeted nervously in my seat as I waited for Jimin to appear, raising a cautious hand to my hair to make sure it was still in place. My heartbeat thudded loudly with anticipation and no matter how many deep breaths I took to try and calm it, it stubbornly continued its heavy pattern. I had almost convinced myself to leave when I saw him exit the office, his hand to his ear and his voice carrying slightly over the sound of cooking, whomever he was talking to on the phone making him frown.

He ended his call with a shake of his head, stopped by the kitchen to see what his staff were doing and then continued on to me. Each step he took seemed to ring in my ears, his movements easy and fluid. I wondered vaguely if he danced but my scrambled thoughts scattered even further when he sent a smile in my direction.

“Zayne, hey,” is what I thought he said, but I could barely hear it over the rushing waves that were crashing in my head. Dressed for comfort but also for his profession, Jimin was in a structured black chef’s coat, the sleeves of it short and rolled to his biceps. He was in black jeans again and on his feet were what looked like doc martens instead of the clogs that I thought all chefs wore. He looked fantastic and I was so screwed.

“Your aunt recommended that I stop by,” I blurted out, saying anything to make it to seem like I hadn’t been thinking of coming back, of seeing him, since the day I’d left. “She gave all of us volunteers some of your kimbap, it was delicious. She was really proud of you.” I winced at my words, but it was too late to take them back. Thankfully Jimin didn’t seem to notice my fumbling and instead cocked his head to side, his smile widening and his eyes narrowing.

“Would you like to stay and eat something before lunch ends? I can whip something up for you I think you’d like.”

I nodded silently, too overwhelmed to speak, to do more than follow along behind him with my feet as heavy as lead. Jimin picked the table that was closest to the enclosed kitchen; at such a short distance I would be able to see his every move as he worked, and the knowledge that I would see him in his element excited me. I was unsure why, but as he entered the workspace and tied on his apron with an air of determination, a fluttering took up residence in my stomach. It didn’t leave as he washed his hands, or when he was collecting his ingredients, didn’t subside as he pushed up his glasses with a solitary finger while he threw things into a huge earthenware pot on the stove.

Whatever he was making fried up quickly, the mixture of mushrooms, beef, and what I assumed to be kimchi making their way into the pot. One by one he added more things that I could recognize, garlic, peppers, red chili flakes and finally a tofu of some sort that was softer and round instead of the chunks I was familiar with. Finally, he added water and let everything simmer, the smell of it making my mouth water. I wasn’t the only one watching; the other patrons had noticed him cooking as well and some looked on with decided interest; perhaps they would order some. A few more minutes had passed but Jimin had never stopped moving, his hands busy cleaning counters and wrapping the leftovers of what he’d prepped for the stew. I hadn’t been hungry when I’d come in, but now I was starving, and my stomach rumbled to let me know.

Surprisingly, Jimin took out at least eight bowls of his creation, and I belatedly realized that he meant to feed his staff as well as me. I was pleased that he had considered them as well though I didn’t quite understand why it mattered. But I didn’t dwell on it, because Jimin was coming over to my table with two bowls in hand and flash of teeth that made me flustered all over again.

“You’re really good at that,” he mentioned as he set the dish in front of me and took his own seat. I sent him a look and he pointed at my hand, the chopsticks I held in my fingers still twirling. Heat rose in my cheeks and I stopped the rotations, plunking down the metal on the table.

“Sorry about that, it’s a habit. I played the drums for a while in middle school. I was really only interested in learning the tricks.” Jimin nodded his head in approval, and I remembered another such conversation.

Jaime and I had been on one of our first dates, the town diner small but affordable for two teens who relied on their allowance to have fun together. At the time my fingers had begged to be occupied thanks to my overwrought nerves and I’d picked up a fork, started to twirl it around my fingers. The motion had calmed my tension and directed the panicky energy I felt into concentrating on the spins. Jaime had been delighted by my drum skills and we had beat on the metal table together in childish abandon, our giggling punctuated by the thump of his hands and the clanking of my fork. A memory so old that it was hazy around the edges but full of happiness. The all too familiar buzz of pain emanated from my chest and I had to force a spoonful of the stew Jimin had made to my lips to hide my grimace.

I had taken a sip unconsciously, but the flavors burst on my tongue, full of savory seasoning. The tofu was soft and had soaked up the flavor of the broth, something fishy and spicy and full a taste I couldn’t place. I looked up at Jimin, seeing him in a whole new light.

“It’s so good!” I gushed despite myself and he chuckled at my exuberance.

“I’m glad you like it, it’s called kimchi soondubu jjigae or soft tofu stew. It was my favorite when I was a kid.”

“I can see why; you cook really well.” Jimin’s smile was dazzling, and his ears turned a light shade of pink that I found endearing. I took a few more bites but I couldn’t resist wanting to ask more, to find out what I could about him and his passions. “How old were you when you opened the restaurant?”

“I was fresh out of culinary arts school when I knew I wanted to open my own place. I waited to save up some money for a few years, so I was about twenty-five when I finally had enough capital. We’ve been going strong for two years now.”

Twenty-seven then; he felt so young in comparison to my thirty, and surely, he’d had more passion for his career than I’d had for mine. It was interesting; I had always assumed that younger men were frivolous but Jimin seemed calm and mature, caring in a way that I hadn’t expected. I snuck glances at him as we ate, noticed the way he fingers tapped on the table as he talked, of how quick and easy his grins came. Jimin talked on about the restaurant and his relationship with TaeHyung, how they started it together. And as he continued my own smiles started to form, slowly at first because I was out of practice, but soon enough I thought that perhaps they were just as bright as his.

I was very aware that I hadn’t smiled this much in years and as Jimin told me of one of his friend’s tragic cooking skills, I couldn’t hold back the giggle that came out of my mouth. The sound was foreign to me, shook me to my core. How long had it been since I’d laughed, since I’d enjoyed the company of another person? But I knew the answer and the fact lingered in the back of my mind, weighing heavily the longer we spoke.

I wasn’t aware of how much time had passed but more people were moving around us, the restaurant becoming busier as the afternoon faded to evening. Thanks to this shared meal I was more conscious of Jimin now, cognizant of the fact that there was something happening between us though I wasn’t quite sure what. And I was even less sure if I wanted anything happening at all. My emotions were just as jumbled as they’d always been, and small flashes of guilt hit my chest every time he smiled at me. I felt suddenly dishonest; the easy talk between us was obviously laced with more, a connection already forming. What if…but I couldn’t think like that.

“Will you come again?” Jimin asked me imploringly, he gaze intense. He had stood up to leave, his staff already bustling in the kitchen and I knew he had to go. But he waited patiently for my answer, and so I nodded in the affirmative, not knowing when I would come back but already realizing that there was nothing so simple between us anymore. He left with more damning smiles and a wave of his hands; I knew that if I did return then it would be with the knowledge that I was seeking his company, wanting to be near Jimin. And I didn’t know what to do with that understanding.

The rain outside had increased in its pressure, but I didn’t want to sit in a taxi or an uber, I wanted to enjoy the sound of the rain pitter-patting on the top of my umbrella, the sounds soothing. Others around me ran to get out of the wet but I didn’t feel the same; the tears that I couldn’t shed in the restaurant now ran down my face freely. If I left the rain, I couldn’t pretend that they were just wayward raindrops anymore, I’d have to face the reality of what I’d done.

The walk back to my home was lonely but when I opened my door I was met with light. I was grateful that I’d left the lights on; it seemed less like I lived alone when they were already pushing back the darkness. My coat was heavy with moisture and I hung it on a rack to dry instead of placing it in my closet, toeing off my shoes and leaving them on the mat by the front door. I took a hot shower before letting myself fall into bed and for once I snuggled under the sheets, almost content.

I had given in a little. I had hoped that seeing Jimin again would release the need in me, would make it so that he wasn’t always in the back of my mind. But sitting and talking together had surely done the opposite; I was more charmed, more tempted and more confused than ever before. I had known Jimin Park was dangerous, but I hadn’t accounted for what he would do to my heart. There was something else stirring beneath the pain and guilt now, a frisson of feeling I had thought I’d never experienced again. I could try denying it in my head as much as I wanted, but my fast-beating heart, shortness of breath and sweaty palms in his presence had only confirmed what I’d already guessed. Somehow, I had a crush on a man I hardly knew, a man who wasn’t my husband.

A/N:Welcome back to the story everyone! It's been a while so I hope you enjoyed the update. Releases have of course been slow since I've been working on my two novels, you can find the latest one here, Keys To Happiness With that being said I'm still working on my third novel as well, so while I'll continue to try and bring you guys as many chapters as possible, bear with me! I really love this story so I will definitely finish it no matter what lol. Remember to COMMENT, UPVOTE and SUBSCRIBE for more content! As always much love guys, <3!