Spying on my calls?

Ava's POV

The wedding hadn't been the first time I'd felt out of place in my own life, but it was the catalyst for everything that followed. Flash back to that day: after the ceremony, as guests mingled with flutes of champagne, I found myself wandering the garden paths, needing a moment away from the crowd. The air was sweet with blooming jasmine, and the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

That's when Taehyung approached me for the first time alone. I was sitting on a stone bench, fiddling with the hem of my dress, when his shadow fell over me.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I looked up, startled. "Uh, sure. It's your dad's wedding too."

He sat down, leaving a respectful distance, but his presence filled the space anyway. "Stepdad, technically," he corrected with a wry smile. "But yeah."

We sat in silence for a minute, the sounds of laughter drifting from the reception tent. Then he spoke again. "You don't seem thrilled about this."

I glanced at him sharply. "What makes you say that?"

"Your face during the vows. Like you were attending a funeral, not a wedding."

I laughed despite myself, a short, bitter sound. "Perceptive. It's just... fast. Mom's been single for years, and now boom—new family."

He nodded, staring out at the horizon. "I get it. Dad's the same. Moves quick when he wants something."

There was something in his tone, a hint of resentment maybe, but he masked it quickly. "What about you?" I asked, turning the tables. "Happy to have a stepsister cramping your style?"

His eyes met mine, that sharp gaze locking on. "Cramping? Nah. Could be interesting."

"Interesting how?"

He shrugged, but his smile was enigmatic. "We'll see."

That conversation stuck with me through the move, through the awkward family dinners where Daniel tried too hard to bond, and my mother fluttered around like a bird in a new cage. Taehyung and I orbited each other cautiously at first—sharing the bathroom schedule, dividing chores, exchanging polite nods in the hallway.

But as months turned to years, the caution gave way to something else. Like the time six months in, when I came home from a disastrous date, mascara-streaked and fuming. Taehyung was in the living room, laptop open, but he closed it when I slammed the door.

"Bad night?" he asked, leaning back on the couch.

I flopped down beside him, too exhausted to care about boundaries. "The worst. Guy was a total jerk—kept talking about his ex the whole time."

Taehyung's jaw clenched, a subtle tick I was starting to notice. "Want me to handle it?"

I rolled my eyes. "What, like beat him up? No thanks, knight in shining armor."

He didn't laugh. "I could. If you wanted."

The seriousness in his voice made me pause. "Tae, it's fine. Really."

He studied me then, that memorizing gaze sweeping over my face. "You deserve better, Ava. Someone who sees you."

Sees me? The words echoed, but I brushed them off with a joke. "Like you do?"

His response was a soft, "Maybe."

Incidents like that piled up: him driving me to campus when my car broke down, his hand brushing mine as he handed me the keys. Him lingering in the kitchen while I baked late at night, offering quiet commentary on my recipes. "Too much sugar," he'd say, but then he'd steal a cookie anyway, his fingers grazing mine.

And the stares. Always the stares. At family barbecues, when I'd catch him watching from across the yard. During movie nights, when our parents dozed off and his eyes would drift to me instead of the screen. Possessive, like he was guarding something precious.

One night, about a year in, things escalated. I'd had a fight with my then-boyfriend, Jake, over something stupid—him canceling plans again. I was pacing the hallway, phone in hand, when Taehyung emerged from his room, shirtless from a workout, sweat glistening on his toned chest.

"Everything okay?" he asked, concern etching his features.

I waved him off. "Just Jake being Jake."

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Dump him."

I stopped pacing, staring. "Excuse me?"

"He's not good enough. Treats you like an afterthought."

Anger flared. "And you know this how? Spying on my calls?"

His eyes darkened. "I pay attention. Unlike him."

We argued then—me accusing him of overstepping, him countering that he was just looking out for family. But as I stormed off, his voice followed: "You know I'm right, Ava."

He was. I broke up with Jake the next day. And Taehyung? He didn't gloat. Just left a note on my door: "Good choice."

Now, back in the present, that kitchen encounter replayed in my mind as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. "Mine." The word was a brand, searing into my thoughts. What did it mean? Possession? Protection? Something darker?

I tossed and turned, memories flooding in. Like the pool party last summer, when I'd worn a new swimsuit—red, daring. Taehyung's eyes had burned holes in me all afternoon, and when a friend of Daniel's son flirted with me, Taehyung appeared out of nowhere, draping a towel over my shoulders. "It's getting cold," he'd said, but his tone was a warning.

Or the time I snuck out for a late-night drive, only to find him waiting in the garage. "Not alone," he'd insisted, sliding into the passenger seat. We drove in silence, but his presence was electric, charged.

Each memory built the puzzle: Taehyung wasn't just watching. He was claiming. And tonight's whisper confirmed it.

As dawn crept in, I realized I wasn't scared. I was intrigued. Drawn to the fire, even if it burned.

But stepping into that flame? That would change everything.

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