you have everything — success, wealth, power. but your father throws a curveball: you can only take over the company if you get married. ridiculous. you don’t need a husband. but then, a brilliant idea strikes. why not hire one?

that’s how you find sunghoon. quiet, polite, and struggling to pay for college. he needs money. you need a husband. it’s perfect.

“so… i just have to pretend to be your husband?” he asks, eyes wide.

“yes. a simple arrangement. you get your tuition, i get my company. after a year, we go our separate ways.”

he hesitates, but then nods. “okay.”

marriage is just paperwork, right? except sunghoon is… warm. thoughtful. he always waits for you to get home, leaving an extra cup of tea on the counter. he doesn’t take up space but somehow fills the apartment with quiet comfort.

one night, after a long meeting, you come home to find him asleep on the couch, books scattered around him. his glasses sit crooked on his nose. without thinking, you fix them. he stirs, blinking up at you.

“you’re home,” he murmurs, voice soft with sleep.

something in your chest tightens.

he’s just your fake husband. so why does it feel real?