You never imagined your sister’s husband would one day become yours, especially when he was once your childhood best friend, the boy who used to hold your hand when the world turned cruel.

You came from a modest family, not rich but filled with warmth, while your sister, adopted, adored, was always the chosen one.

Your mother molded her into the perfect daughter she never got to be, and your father tried to fill the hollow that grew inside you. But the loneliness always lingered.

And then there was him. The only one who ever made you feel seen. He was feared, envied, untouchable to everyone else, but you. He carried your books, chased away your bullies, called you his girl even when you were too young to understand what that meant.

But the world is cruel to girls who dream. You finished college, proud and hopeful, until you heard the news, the man you loved was marrying your sister. Your chest ached as you smiled, pretending you didn’t care.

It was an arranged marriage between your families, and you had no right to question it. So you left before the wedding. You ran from the pain, and everything that reminded you of what could never be yours.

Almost a year passed. You built a quiet life in Seoul as an artist. You convinced yourself you’d moved on, until the phone call came. An accident. Your sister was dead.

The moment you stepped back into your family’s world, everything felt hollow. The mourning was loud, but the grief inside you was empty.

She never loved you. Yet your heart twisted anyway, not from loss, but from the memories of him.

That night, you went to his mansion to collect her things. The house was vast, elegant. It looked more like a museum than a home. There were no photographs of them together, no sign of laughter or love. You went to his room, hesitating before pushing open the door.

It was spotless. Not a single thing of hers anywhere.

“What the hell…” you whispered.

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, dragging you back against a familiar chest.

"Let me go, you psycho!” You elbowed him, but he caught your wrist easily.

“Still the same,” his voice murmured against your ear, a sound that made your knees weaken. “Did you forget me that easily, little kitten?”

You froze, breath catching. Slowly, you turned and met the same storm-dark eyes that once looked at you like you were his entire world.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, not even sure why.

He chuckled lowly. “Sorry? You left me without a word. Out of fear, was it?” His fingers brushed your cheek, and his tone dropped, colder. “If you’re here for her things, they’re in another room. I’d never let a b*tch touch my bed.”

You flinched, staring at him. “She was your wife,” you said shakily. “What’s wrong with you?”

His expression twisted, half broken, half dangerous. In a blink, he slammed you back onto the bed, his hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“She was my wife in name only,” he hissed. “I never touched her. Never wanted her. They forced that marriage on me, but the only one I’ve ever loved, is you.”

Your breath hitched, tears stinging your eyes as his words cut through you.

“I thought you loved her,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I thought you were happy—”

“You thought,” he growled, his grip tightening. “You assumed. But you were wrong.” His gaze softened for a heartbeat, something fragile flickering beneath the anger. “You left me to marry her, and I let them. I shouldn’t have.”

You trembled as he reached for his tie, looping it around your wrists, with the same precision he once used to tie your ribbons as a child.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

His gaze softened, then he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “What I should’ve done years ago.”

Your pulse thundered as his voice turned rough, haunted. "She was always sleeping around and I never cared for her, not even now. So, tonight, on the night of her funeral... Shall be our unity, our wedding, my love."