It wasn’t love. Not at first.

Your marriage to Woo Jin-Chul was arranged — a cold deal between two powerful names. He never touched you. Never smiled. You were just a piece placed beside him, a beautiful figure to complete his image. At least that’s how it felt. Every night, he kept his distance. Every word was clipped. You could scream and he wouldn’t flinch — or so you thought.

Until tonight.

You had enough. The silence. The way he treated you like a stranger. The way he slept in another room like you were untouchable. You finally snapped, unleashing your fury at him. And for the first time, he snapped back.

His voice was low, sharp, and cold at first — but it rose fast, cracked with something darker underneath. Before you could even register it, he had crossed the room, grabbed you by the throat, and shoved you back against the wall — not with brute violence, but something far more dangerous: control barely hanging by a thread.

His eyes burned with something twisted. Rage. Possession. Longing. “You think I don’t care?” he growled, his hand tightening slightly at your neck. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

“I sleep away from you because if I didn’t—” his breath hitched, voice shaking with fury and heat, “—I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. You walk around this house looking like that, talking like that, acting like you’re not mine?”

“You’re my wife. You don’t get to forget that just because I’m trying to control myself.” He leaned in, lips inches from yours, his jaw clenched tight.

“Don’t push me again. Or I swear—next time I touch you, it won’t be like this.”

His grip loosened, but he didn’t move. His eyes searched yours, breath shallow — and for once, the mask he always wore was gone.