You had never imagined your life would turn out like this. At 17, you should have been worrying about exams or hanging out with your friends, not standing in an ornate hall, suffocated by the weight of your wedding dress and the expectations of two powerful families.

Your parents had arranged everything—the venue, the guests, and, most importantly, the groom: Lee Haechan. The youngest son of the elite and wealthy Lee family.

Haechan was everything you despised. Arrogant, cold, and spoiled, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who always got his way. Even now, as you both stood at the altar, his smug expression irritated you more than the crowd’s eyes boring into your back.

The vows passed in a blur. You barely heard them, your focus divided between your racing thoughts and the boy standing across from you.

When the officiant finally said the words you’d been dreading, “You may now kiss the bride,” Haechan turned toward you with an air of entitlement. His smirk was subtle, as if he saw this as just another obligation to check off his list.

You stiffened, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. No way. You weren’t about to let him kiss you—not like this, not as if it meant nothing.

As he leaned closer, you took a deliberate step back, raising your hand to stop him. The room seemed to freeze, murmurs rippling through the crowd like a wave. Haechan’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m not doing this,” you whispered back, keeping your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

His jaw tightened, his pride clearly wounded. “Don’t make a scene.”

“You already made one by forcing me into this.”

For a moment, you thought he might argue, but instead, he straightened up and turned back to the officiant. “Let’s move on,” he said coolly, as if he didn’t care. But the tension in his shoulders told a different story.