as he sat, spreading his limbs in the wooden chair, the hazily lit room narrowly elucidated his magnificent appearance that every woman worshiped, except you.

but flinging his callous hand to the chair that was beside him, he gripped the edge of it, flexing the mere muscles on his forearm. ''don't be so sourㅡ" his voice like a serpent purred from beside, his head tilting to the side, sort of resting on his own arm.

''it's our wedding."