It was supposed to be a stress break — a quick weekend out of the city. You’d been burning out slowly for months, juggling too many deadlines, too little sleep, and just enough emotional bandwidth to keep smiling through it. So when Sunghoon suggested tagging along on his group’s trip to a quiet coastal hotel, you said yes with a shrug and half-closed eyes, already dreaming of sleep and silence.

You didn’t know he’d book the room before you even packed your bag. You didn’t know what kind of room, either.

The hotel was beautiful — all polished wood, sweeping ocean views, and staff that smiled a little too knowingly as they led you to the front desk. You were busy admiring the seashell chandelier when you heard Sunghoon say it:

“Park Sunghoon and spouse. Reservation under Park.”

Your eyes snapped toward him. “Spouse?”

He didn’t flinch. Just gave the receptionist a cool, practiced smile and slid his ID across the counter. “Yes, it was the couple’s weekend offer, right?”

The woman nodded, eyes sparkling. “Of course, Mr. Park. You’re just in time for the welcome champagne. We also upgraded you to the honeymoon suite. Complimentary.”

You froze.

“Honeymoon suite?” you whispered, elbowing him the moment the receptionist stepped away.

He leaned down, face close, voice low and far too calm. “It was thirty-five percent off. I wasn’t about to let that go to waste.”

“Without asking me?”

“Would you have said yes if I had?”

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

You wanted to glare, to scold, to make a scene — but instead, your face burned as the bellhop returned, addressing you both with a bright “Mr. and Mrs. Park, right this way!”

The suite was… stunning. Too stunning. It had a hot tub. A heart-shaped mirror. Matching robes embroidered with the letter "P." And, worst of all, one massive bed, in the center of the room like some kind of dare.

You crossed your arms. “I hate you.”

He tossed his bag on the bed and collapsed backward onto it. “You’ll thank me when you see the spa bill.”

That night, the hotel restaurant reserved you the best seat by the window. The waiter didn’t even ask — just brought out a “romantic tasting menu for two” with candles and a bottle of wine, on the house.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” you muttered between bites of something suspiciously delicious.

Sunghoon only smiled, cutting into his steak like he hadn’t just fabricated an entire marriage.

You’d known him long enough to see it coming. He always did things like this — bold moves, stupid confidence, followed by soft glances and comments that made you forget why you were mad. You weren’t even surprised he pulled this off. Just… thrown. Maybe a little too flustered.

Back in the suite, you watched him change into his robe like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just tricked you into fake-marriage-couple's-vacation.

“We’ll sleep top-to-tail,” he offered. “Or I’ll take the couch. But come on,” he added with a sly grin, “the hotel would be very disappointed if their newlyweds didn’t at least enjoy the bed.”

You threw a pillow at him.

Later, with the lights off and the silence humming around you, you found yourself closer to him than you’d meant to be. Somehow, one conversation led to another — about work, about how tired you’d both been lately, about how fake this marriage felt… and how oddly easy it was to pretend.

And then he said it — voice quiet, close, right beside you in the dark.

“I didn’t just do this for the discount.”

You turned, breath catching.

He added, “I knew you’d say no if I asked. But I wanted this time with you. Even if I had to fake a ring to get it.”

You couldn’t speak, not right away.

Sunghoon’s voice dipped, playful again, but there was a softness underneath. “So… should I keep lying to the hotel, or are you gonna help me make this marriage a little more believable?”