Family traditions are hard to escape—even for you.

Your family and Kim Min-jeong’s had always been close, almost one household rather than two. You grew up side by side, sharing childhood games, teenage frustrations, and the slow drift into adulthood. Everything between you had always felt natural—effortless—until one night altered the course of your lives.

At a grand family gathering, the announcement came: you and Min-jeong were to be married. No discussion, no warning—just a decision made long ago, finally brought to light. The shock in her eyes mirrored your own, yet protest was impossible. The venue, the honeymoon, even the dress had already been chosen. All that remained was for you both to say I do.

The day before the wedding, Min-jeong, known for her long, flowing hair, cut it short. A silent rebellion—a final act of defiance against the life being forced upon her.

The ceremony unfolded without a flaw. Smiles were worn, vows recited, laughter echoed through the hall. But beneath the polished surface lay an unspoken truth: neither of you wanted this.

That night, in the bridal suite, the weight of it all pressed down. Min-jeong sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, hands clenched in her lap.

“We got married because of an arrangement,” she said, her voice low, sharp with frustration.

Then she turned. Her dark eyes met yours—cold, unyielding.

“And don’t ever try to touch me.”

The words struck like a blow, though you had braced for them. You swallowed hard and nodded, feigning indifference you didn’t feel.

Outside, the world still celebrated your union. Inside, silence stretched between you—two strangers bound by tradition, mourning choices they never had the chance to make.