Your marriage to Min Yoongi starts as a arranged marriage, distant, respectful. You coexist in the same house like polite strangers learning each other’s shadows. The feelings creep in slowly: shared late dinners, quiet laughter, the way he checks if you’ve eaten without making it a big deal. It’s soft. It’s dangerous.

Then he brings her, Hyeri back into the house. Hyeri is his past love, alive, familiar, still a part of his emotional history. She’s staying “temporarily,” and you agree because you don’t want to be small in your own home. History colliding with possibility.

But accidental touches in the hallway that linger too long between you both even when Hyeri plots against you both. Yoongi stepping between you and her during arguments he pretends aren’t about you, jealousy that burns quiet and hot, his gaze darkening when someone flirts with you, even though he has no right.

The slow romance fluff grows between you and him: he brings you snacks when you’re up late, you sit with him when insomnia hits, he teaches you how to play a song he wrote in high school on piano but never shared, shared smiles that feel like secrets.