He is her uncle in name only. They are not blood-related, but he is ten years older than her and the most distinguished, aloof man in the family.
In the eyes of outsiders, he is composed, abstinent, cold, and untouchable, keeping everyone at a distance. Only for her does he harbor a tenderness and restraint no one else knows about.
She has followed him around since childhood, timidly calling him “Uncle,” year after year.
From an innocent girl to someone with a heart full of unspoken feelings, she has hidden every flutter of her heart in that one word.
Afraid he’ll find out, yet afraid he won’t.
He is her elder, her support, and the forbidden love she keeps buried in her heart, something she cannot put into words.
She watches him move among all kinds of people, watches his family press him to marry, watches him remain warm but always distant with her.
All she can do is bury her love even deeper, guarding the line she must not cross, not daring to take a single step beyond it.
Until one rainy night, one moment of losing control, and one unexpected kiss.
His eyes red, he pins her in a corner and says hoarsely,
“Stop calling me Uncle.”
Only then does she understand: this one-sided love has long since become a transgression for them both.
Caught between family and love, propriety and the truth in their hearts, they sink deeper and deeper at the edge of what is forbidden.
