Hayli Perry lingered outside the Hidden Edge Dojang, iced coffee in hand, phone raised like she was reading a text. In truth, she was sneaking glances through the front window. Inside, Kai Kang led a synchronized drill with students, his black sleeveless gi revealing chiseled arms that moved with precision. The mix of kids and teens mirrored his focus back at him, following his every move. Hayli smiled to herself. It was supposed to be Noah’s class, but lately she was the one drawn in—by the calm authority, the discipline, and by Kai himself.
Her son, Noah, stood near the center of the line—still the smallest in the class, but no longer the least confident. In the few short weeks since she’d enrolled him at Hidden Edge Dojang, Hayli had seen a quiet shift in him: less slouching, more focus, a new kind of steadiness in the way he carried himself. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Something in him was beginning to take shape.
That was why she brought him here. Not just for the physical discipline or the self-defense. It was more than that.
Without a full-time father in his life—thanks to a cross-state move and a new wife who’d once been just “Daddy’s co-worker”—Noah needed a male mentor to give him guidance.
And, as much as she didn’t want to put that weight on any one man, especially a stranger, she couldn’t deny that Sensei Kai Kang seemed to embody exactly what she hoped her son might one day become.
At the front of the room, Kai moved with practiced grace, his arms folded behind his back as he observed his students’ form. He was lean and muscular, his black dobok fitted snug across wide shoulders. The belt at his waist was worn but neat, the white thread frayed slightly at the edges. When he moved, it was with fluid precision—not showy, but unmistakably controlled. A man at peace in his body.
Hayli didn’t pretend to know anything about martial arts, but there was something captivating about the way he flowed between stillness and sudden motion. Even now, he was correcting a high block, gently guiding a student’s wrist upward, nodding once in approval before stepping back.
He had yet to say a word.
That, too, had struck her from the beginning—his restraint. He spoke with purpose, not to fill silence. When he offered praise, it meant something. When he gave direction, it was firm, never harsh.
She caught herself watching a little too long and blinked, sipping her coffee.
It wasn’t like that. She wasn’t looking. Not really.
Besides, he barely knew she existed. She’d nodded politely the first day when she filled out Noah’s registration forms, and since then they’d exchanged little more than smiles. Still, something flickered in her when class ended and Kai clapped his hands once—sharp and commanding.
“Line up.”
Noah scrambled into formation with the other kids. They bowed in unison, their voices echoing the Korean phrase she’d heard but never memorized. Then came the part Hayli had learned to look forward to: Kai’s closing demonstration.
In a single, fluid burst, he leapt into a spinning heel kick, landing silently, already turning into a tumbling backflip. The students clapped; the parents did too. Even Hayli, startled by the sudden movement, smiled in spite of herself.
Kai gave a half-bow. Then, as he straightened, his eyes swept the room—and landed on her.
Just for a second. Maybe less.
Then he looked away, already turning to speak to the class about respect and practice, about using strength to protect, not harm–a daily moral lesson she’d come to admire.
She stood when Noah came running toward her, belt trailing slightly behind him, cheeks red with exertion.
“Did you see that, Mom? He did a double flip today!”
“I saw,” she said, smiling as she reached for his water bottle. “You’re getting better, too.”
As they stepped out into the cooling evening, she looked back through the glass doors once more. Kai was gathering pads from the floor, speaking to another parent. But as she turned away, Hayli couldn’t shake the feeling that something small—but important—had just shifted.
She just wasn’t sure what.
——-
Hayli couldn’t believe it was already Wednesday—time for Noah’s next weekly taekwondo lesson.
The rain had already begun by the time Hayli pulled into the lot, wipers brushing slow arcs across the windshield. She parked close to the building, watching as rivulets streamed down the glass in twisting paths.
Inside, the lights of the dojang glowed soft and clean, diffused by the wet windows. She could hear the muffled thud of feet on mats even before she stepped inside.
It was a smaller class tonight—maybe half the usual number of students. Some parents had probably stayed home because of the weather. The space felt calmer, quieter, like someone had turned the volume down on the whole world.
Hayli settled into her usual chair and folded her hands over her lap. Across the mat, Noah was paired with another boy his size, practicing blocks under the watchful eye of Sensei Kang.
Following another great session, acrobatics demonstration and character-building lesson, Noah came running to where Hayli sat. She bent to pick up Noah’s bag. A shadow passed across her peripheral vision. She looked up—and he was there.
Kai stood just a few feet away, folding up a training pad. But as he turned toward the bin, his eyes found hers.
They held.
And just like that, he was moving again—stoic, unreadable, helping a younger student tie his belt.
“Mom, can we get food on the way home?” Noah’s voice pulled her out of the moment.
Hayli blinked, then nodded, swallowing a tightness she hadn’t realized had gathered in her throat.
“Sure,” she said, brushing hair behind her ear. “Let’s just grab your stuff.”
They stepped out into the gentle rain, Noah pulling his hoodie over his head, Hayli following with his bag in one hand and her keys in the other.
As they reached the car, she glanced back through the misted glass one last time.
Kai stood near the mirrors, adjusting something on the wall.
And for a second—maybe less—she could’ve sworn he glanced at them in the reflection.
——-
The waiting room was quiet for a Friday, just the soft hum of the water feature and the occasional shuffle of pages from a dog-eared magazine. Hayli sat behind the curved reception desk, answering emails with one hand while sipping a cold peppermint tea with the other.
She’d meant to switch to coffee after lunch, but the tea somehow felt more calming. Maybe she needed that today.
The door chimed gently as the next patient stepped in. A petite woman in her early thirties, stylishly dressed, with long black hair tucked neatly into a side braid, approached the desk with a polite smile.
“Hi there,” Hayli greeted, setting her drink down and straightening her name badge. “Checking in?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Two o’clock with Dr. Samuelson. I’m under Kang.”
Hayli’s fingers froze over the keyboard. “I’m sorry—what was that?”
“Kang. Grace Kang.”
She typed it in, heart giving the faintest hiccup. “Kang.” Same as Sensei Kai.
The woman’s ID photo popped up—different features, obviously—but still. It wasn’t a very common name. At least, not around here.
Could this perhaps be…his wife? Hayli wondered. As she clicked to confirm the appointment, she smiled, voice light.
“Any chance you’re related to a… Kai Kang? Teaches at a martial arts school?”
Grace blinked. “Oh! No, sorry. I don’t know him.”
Hayli nodded, letting out a soft breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. “No worries. Just thought I’d ask.”
Grace returned the smile, taking a seat in the waiting area with a small tablet in her lap.
Hayli chewed her lip, suddenly aware of how flushed her face felt.
And now she was thinking about him again.
The way he moved across the mat.
The way his eyes had caught hers.
The sound of his voice when he spoke to the students—measured, calm, kind.
She closed the window on Grace’s profile and opened the next appointment, forcing herself back into work mode. But her focus had already drifted.
Wednesday suddenly felt a long way off.
And at the same time, much too close.
——-
Hayli adjusted the neckline of her top for the fifth time in as many minutes, tugging at the fabric like it might magically turn into something looser and more modest.
“This was a terrible idea,” she muttered.
“No, this was a brilliant idea,” said Stacy, handing her a fizzy pink cocktail. “You’ve been a saint all year. Tonight, you sin a little.”
“I’m not trying to sin,” Hayli said, sipping anyway. “I’m trying to have one drink and be home by eleven.”
“It’s already eleven,” chirped Marissa on her other side. “And the good part hasn’t even started.”
Hayli sighed, letting herself laugh as the lights dimmed and the volume of the music surged. The club was crowded—dozens of women in sparkly tops and bachelorette sashes and oversized “Girls Night” tiaras packed around cocktail tables. The air buzzed with perfume, wine breath, and anticipation.
Hayli leaned in to Stacy. “So… what exactly is the format here?”
“Six dancers. Each with a little theme. Costumes, choreography, the whole shebang.”
“And… it’s just… like, sexy dancing?”
Stacy smirked. “Mostly.”
Hayli sat back, unsure what she’d gotten herself into. She’d been tired, emotionally knotted, and her friends had pounced. “Let us take you out,” they said. “Let your hair down.”
Fine. She’d let her hair down. But this wasn’t exactly her scene.
Then the lights shifted—deep red fading into blue—and the emcee’s voice echoed across the speakers.
“Ladies… please welcome to the stage, our guest performer tonight…The Warrior!”
A tribal-style beat began pulsing through the speakers, low and rhythmic. Fog machines hissed faintly from the wings.
Hayli blinked.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows at center stage—bare chest glistening, wearing a familiar black dobok, loose black pants slung low on narrow hips. A single black sash tied diagonally across his shoulder. His face was partially shadowed… until the spotlight hit him full on.
And Hayli’s heart flatlined.
It was Kai!
There was no mistaking him. The lean, powerful frame. The shaved head. The yin-yang tattoo on his chest. The stillness in his eyes even as his body moved like a blade through air.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t wink.
He performed, doing his amazing acrobatic moves and flips, an article of clothing falling every moment.
Controlled. Powerful. Utterly magnetic.
Hayli froze in her seat, unsure if she was breathing. Her drink sat untouched. Her body had gone very still, except for the sudden flush rising up her neck.
“Holy hell,” Merissa whispered. “That guy could bench press me.”
“Is it just me,” Stacy murmured, “or is he actually kind of… classy?”
Hayli didn’t answer. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Because now, Kai was looking straight at her.
Their eyes locked—clearly, unmistakably.
And his movements shifted.
What had been a general performance now zeroed in, subtle at first. The way he turned toward her table. The sweep of his arm. The angle of his body. It was as if he were dancing only for her now.
Hayli’s throat went dry. She reached blindly for her drink and missed.
“Oh my God,” Marissa laughed. “He’s coming over here.”
“No—he’s just—he’s not—” Hayli tried, but her voice cracked.
Kai stepped down from the edge of the stage, fluid and graceful. Now, he wore only a tiny black thong — and it left very little to the imagination!
Other women reached out, laughing, waving bills in the air. He barely acknowledged them, eyes fixed ahead.
And then he was in front of her table.
Hayli’s legs locked. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away.
Kai leaned in just slightly, his chest inches from her face, eyes on hers. Then, with a slow nod of acknowledgment—serious, almost reverent—he held out his hand.
Hayli’s heart pounded. She didn’t know what to do.
Then Marissa pressed a folded bill into her hand. “Go on,” she whispered.
With trembling fingers, Hayli reached out and tucked the tip into the waistband at Kai’s hip, her eyes darting away—but not before she saw the way his lips curved into the faintest smile. Not playful. Not oarrogant.
Just knowing.
Then he turned and slipped away into the fog, the crowd erupting behind him.
Hayli collapsed back into her seat.
“I think I need air,” she whispered.
——-
The last of the parents were pulling out of the lot, brake lights glowing dimly in the dusk. Hayli stood beside her SUV, arms folded loosely, watching Noah wrestle with his seatbelt in the back seat.
Class had gone by in a blur. She’d barely registered the drills or Kai’s final lesson. Her chest had been tight the whole time, every nerve on edge.
She wasn’t sure if she was hoping to avoid him… or see him up close again.
The driver’s side door clicked shut behind her, and for a moment, it was just the soft creak of the wind and the faint squeak of sneakers on pavement.
Then:
“Miss Perry?”
She turned.
Kai stood a few yards away, hands at his sides, his voice low enough not to carry. His dobok top was folded over one shoulder, a plain black T-shirt clinging to his torso, his skin still faintly dewy from the evening drills.
“Hi,” Hayli said, too quickly.
His expression was unreadable. Calm, as always — but there was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Not stern. Not professional.
Still.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said.
Her breath caught. “For what?”
He hesitated, then walked a little closer — still careful, still measured.
“I didn’t expect to see any familiar faces the other night.”
She exhaled a shaky laugh. “I didn’t know you were a performer there—or anywhere. I didn’t even know it was you until the lights came on.”
“I only perform a few times a year,” he said. “When the owner needs someone to fill in. It’s not… something I advertise.”
“I can see why.”
That slipped out too quickly, too sharply. Her eyes widened. “I mean—”
Kai’s lips curved, faintly. “It’s alright.”
They stood in silence, the space between them humming with tension.
Hayli lowered her voice. “Why do it?”
His answer came without hesitation. “Discipline and performance aren’t opposites. Teaching is control. Performing is release.”
She swallowed.
“And you—” he continued. “You didn’t look away.”
Hayli’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t know if I should.”
He stepped one pace closer — not enough to crowd her, but enough that she could smell the faint trace of soap and sweat clinging to his skin.
“I saw you,” he said softly. “In the crowd. And I didn’t look away either.” After an awkward beat, he added, “Maybe I was glad to see you there.”
Her heart kicked.
Behind her, Noah’s voice called from the SUV window, muffled. “Mom?”
She blinked, suddenly aware of where they were, of the open lot and the fading light.
Kai looked toward the car, then back at her. His voice dropped lower. “We should talk. Away from here. Without distractions.”
She nodded before she realized she had.
He smiled — just a little — and stepped back.
“I’ll text you. Same number in the database?”
“Yes. O—Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She climbed into the driver’s seat, hands trembling on the steering wheel.
Noah was already rambling about a new sparring combination in the back. She mumbled affirmatives, nodded at the right moments, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
It had happened.
The line between them had bent.
And the next time they spoke… there might not be one anymore.
——-
Hayli arrived a few minutes early, nerves fluttering in her stomach like she was seventeen again. She smoothed her hands down her skirt as she waited by the rooftop hostess stand, pretending to admire the string lights that twinkled overhead like soft stars.
She heard his footsteps before she saw him—measured, confident—and then Kai was there, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He looked less like Sensei Kang and more like a man. A handsome one.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she echoed, her voice softer than intended.
The hostess led them to a small table near the edge of the rooftop. The city lights blinked in the distance, and a quiet acoustic playlist filtered from the outdoor speakers.
They sat. Ordered drinks. And for a while, the conversation hovered on safe things—funny things Noah had said in class, how rainy the week had been, favorite kinds of food. But as the drinks sank lower in their glasses, something shifted.
Kai tilted his head. “You mentioned before that you’re doing all of this solo. You and Noah.”
Hayli nodded. “I’ve been divorced about three years now.”
He didn’t pry. He just waited.
She exhaled. “It wasn’t dramatic. Just… sad. He fell in love with someone else. His secretary. They’re married now. Moved out of state. He sees Noah on school breaks, but it’s not what it should be.”
Kai’s expression didn’t change, but she saw something flicker behind his eyes. Something gentle.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shrugged, offering a crooked smile. “I’m not. Not anymore. It taught me what I won’t settle for again.”
He nodded slowly, running his thumb along the edge of his glass. “Pain can be a good teacher.”
She looked at him. “And you’ve had your share?”
“One or two,” he said, with a faint smile. “Some bad matches. One I thought would last. It didn’t. But it taught me how to listen better. How to show up. How to know what I’m not ready for… and what I am.”
Their eyes locked across the table.
Hayli’s chest rose slightly with her breath. She wasn’t used to this — a man who didn’t rush in with compliments or confessions, who gave space and weight to the quiet.
“You’re a good listener,” she said.
“You’re easy to listen to.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged.
Kai reached for his wallet, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Let me get this one.”
“You sure?”
“Next one’s yours,” she said.
The implication hung in the air between them.
He smiled, and they rose from the table together.
Outside the bar, the night was cooler, and the streetlamps cast long gold shadows along the sidewalk. They walked side by side toward the parking structure without speaking. Every step closer made Hayli more aware of his presence, the closeness of his shoulder, the warmth radiating from him.
At the elevator, they paused.
Kai turned toward her, his voice quieter now. “Hayli.”
She looked up.
“I want to kiss you.”
Her breath caught. “Okay.”
He stepped in slowly, giving her the chance to move away. She didn’t.
Their lips met—soft, slow, a question and an answer all at once. Her hand found the front of his shirt, fingers curling gently. His thumb brushed her cheek.
It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t restraint. It was… knowing. The recognition of something both of them had been holding back.
When they finally parted, Hayli let out a shaky laugh. “Okay,” she said again, softly.
Kai’s smile was barely there. “Let me know when you want the second one.”
She nodded, dazed, and stepped into the elevator.
As the doors closed between them, she touched her lips. Still warm.
Still hers.
Arriving home, the living room light was dimmed low when Hayli stepped through the front door, the faint scent of chamomile and hand lotion in the air. Her mother sat curled up in the armchair, glasses perched low on her nose, a paperback in her lap.
Hayli toed off her heels and set her purse down gently.
“Hey, Mom,” she said finally.
Her mother looked up, smiling warmly. “You’re home late. That’s a good sign.”
Hayli laughed under her breath. “It was nice.”
“Nice?” her mother repeated, mock-skeptical.
Hayli shrugged off her light jacket. “Just… a single dad from Noah’s school. Nothing big.”
Her mom gave a knowing smile but didn’t press. “Noah was easy. Out cold by nine. He was worn out from drills, I think.”
Hayli smiled softly. “Thanks for watching him. Really.”
Her mother stood and kissed her cheek. “You need to do things for yourself, sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.”
They hugged, and then her mother slipped out quietly into the night, leaving Hayli alone in the house.
Upstairs, she tiptoed past Noah’s room and peeked inside. He was asleep, curled on his side, mouth slightly open, breathing slow and even. She lingered for a second before continuing to her own room.
She undressed slowly, folding her clothes neatly on the bench at the foot of the bed, and pulled on her favorite old cotton nightgown. Not flattering, not sexy—just soft. Familiar. Safe.
But the comfortable garment betrayed her true inner turmoil.
She felt… restless.
She lay back on the bed, hands resting across her stomach, staring at the ceiling fan.
Kai’s voice echoed in her ears.
You’re easy to listen to…
I want to kiss you…
Discipline is control. Performance is release…
Her thighs shifted unconsciously beneath the sheets. Her skin buzzed, warm and heavy. The space between her legs tingling. Her fingers moved without thought—brushing her stomach, then dipping lower.
She wasn’t even thinking of the kiss. Not entirely.
She was thinking of him under the lights. The way his body moved with power and grace.
The knowing look in his eyes.
The softness in his voice.
The restraint in his touch.
She pulled the crotch of her simple cotton brief panties aside and pushed her fingers more firmly over her mound, eyes closing as her breath caught. Her other hand gripped the sheet beside her as she stroked her neglected genitalia, the tension building quickly.
She wasn’t embarrassed. She didn’t feel pathetic.
She felt hungry…a quiet moment in the dark. A secret she didn’t have to explain or justify.
Her body was responding to her touch—her wetness slickening her fingers as they dug deeper into her most intimate spaces.
When the climax came, it rolled through her like a warm tide, quiet but full, shaking something loose inside her chest. Her mouth opened into a gaping “o” as a loud, short cry echoed into her ceiling before she cupped her free hand over her mouth to stifle her cries of pleasure as she rode the wave of sexual euphoria, Her lips finally parted in a breathless sigh, and her body relaxed all at once, like someone releasing a string pulled too tight.
She lay still for a long time after, hand resting gently over her belly.
Not ashamed.
Not empty.
Just… relieved.
It had been too long since she’d let herself feel.
And now she was ready.
Sleep came quickly and deeply.
——-
Hayli hadn’t expected the restaurant to be this nice.
Soft jazz played over warm golden lighting, the windows looking out over the glimmer of the city skyline. Her napkin was folded like a swan. Even the butter came sculpted. She felt underdressed and overwhelmed — and yet, when Kai looked at her across the table, it was like she belonged here.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said, smiling behind the rim of her wine glass.
“I wanted to,” he said simply. “You deserve to be taken somewhere you don’t have to pick Cheerios out of your hair.”
She laughed — a full, surprised laugh — and felt her shoulders relax.
They talked easily through appetizers. It wasn’t until halfway through the main course — her filet mignon, his glazed salmon — that Kai asked, “Do you work full-time at the dental office?”
Hayli nodded. “Receptionist. And part-time therapist to anxious patients.” She smiled. “I like it, though. It’s steady.”
She took a deep breath before adding, “But it’s not always enough.”
She hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Sometimes I walk dogs in the evenings. Extra money when Noah hits a growth spurt or tears through new sneakers in two weeks.”
Kai’s brow furrowed. “Your ex doesn’t help?”
“He’s supposed to,” she said, tone flat. “Let’s just say his priorities shift depending on how happy his new wife is that month.”
Kai didn’t press. He just sat back and looked at her — really looked at her.
“You’re doing an incredible job.”
Hayli blinked, caught off guard.
“I mean it,” he said. “Noah’s grounded. Focused. That’s not an accident. That’s you.”
Her chest warmed in a way that had nothing to do with wine.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re the first man who’s said that to me in a long time.”
They sat in a quiet lull for a while after, the city lights reflecting in the window beside them.
Later, they walked along the waterfront, arms brushing now and then, the sound of waves lapping at the shore.
Hayli glanced at him sideways. “You mentioned before that one of your relationships… you thought it would last?”
Kai nodded. “We were engaged. I was twenty-nine. Thought I had it all figured out.”
“What happened?”
“She met someone else. Broke it off clean, but it broke me for a while.” He smiled faintly. “Looking back, I think she needed something I couldn’t give yet. And maybe I needed to be broken open a little. That pain made me grow. Taught me how to show up for people better. Including myself.”
Hayli let that settle. “You really believe pain can be a gift.”
“If you let it shape you instead of control you? Absolutely.”
They walked in silence for a few paces, then she asked, “Why open a dojo?”
Kai looked out over the water. “Martial arts gave me structure when I was a restless kid. My grandfather taught me the basics. Then I trained seriously through my teens and into the Marines.”
“You were a Marine?”
He nodded. “Served six years. While I was in, one of my brothers and I started holding weekly classes in the rec center. After we got out, we opened a small studio together. Back east.”
“What happened?”
“He got stationed overseas again. I stayed behind. Eventually, I moved west and started over.”
Hayli smiled. “And ‘Hidden Edge’ — that’s your name?”
He nodded. “It’s a reference to internal strength. The power no one sees. We all have something sharp inside. Something that cuts through fear or doubt or weakness. It’s not about dominance. It’s about precision. Restraint. Purpose.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him.
“That’s beautiful,” she said.
“You’re beautiful,” he answered.
She exhaled — not out of nervousness, but release. As if something in her had been waiting to hear those words and finally believed them.
Kai reached for her hand. “Hayli… would you come back with me tonight?”
She didn’t speak right away.
Instead, she looked at him — this man who listened, who shared, who watched her with intent instead of appetite — and felt something stir deeper than simple attraction.
She nodded.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
Kai smiled. Not cocky. Not triumphant. Just warm.
“I know a place.”
She didn’t even hesitate when he pulled out his phone and ordered the car.
She simply texted her mom:
Hey — any chance Noah can sleep over? I’ll pick him up in the morning.
Her mom responded within seconds:
Of course. Enjoy your night, sweetheart.
Hayli looked up at the stars.
She was finally ready to take what she needed.
(Continued in Part 2)
