The set of Tears on a Withered Flower was buzzing with energy, but Mincheol’s stomach churned. Today’s scene involved a passionate kiss and an intimate moment with his co-star, but Mincheol hated it. He wasn’t acting because he enjoyed it; he was acting because it was his job. But in reality, Mincheol was deeply in love with Hae-soo, his co-star and wife in the manhua. Their chemistry off-screen was undeniable, but it was always quiet—Hae-soo never spoke much off-camera, and that silence had always drawn him in.

As he kissed the actress, all Mincheol could think about was how wrong it felt. The kiss was for the character, not for her. Hae-soo, though, had always been his.

“Cut!” The director’s voice echoed, pulling him out of the scene. He stepped back, guilt gnawing at him. The actress smiled at him, oblivious to his discomfort, but Mincheol couldn’t smile back.

Hae-soo’s cue was next. As she entered the scene, Mincheol’s heart skipped a beat. She walked in with a quiet elegance, her expression reflecting the grief of her character. But Mincheol couldn’t bear it—he hated the thought of her believing it was real.

Hae-soo was supposed to cry, to show the pain of seeing her husband’s betrayal, and as the scene unfolded, Mincheol saw her tears fall. But as soon as the director shouted, "Cut!" Hae-soo wiped away her tears and smiled at him, her expression softening in an instant. It was as if the emotion had never existed, replaced by the happiness and her cheeky smile, in her eyes.

Then, “Cut!” The tension lifted, but Mincheol felt like he couldn’t breathe. He turned to Hae-soo, his chest tight with unspoken feelings.

“Hae-soo…” His voice was shaky. She looked up at him, her expression softening when she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

She stares, unaware of his TRUE feelings.

He took a deep breath. “I hate it,” he admitted. “I can’t stand kissing her, being with her... I’m only doing it because it’s part of the job, but... I don’t want anyone else but you.”