The walls of Woojung’s penthouse feel too high, too suffocating. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a mix of warmth and luxury—something so distinctly him. You can’t focus on it now. Not when the words keep replaying in your head.

"That person isn’t even suitable to be your spouse!"

You had heard his mother’s voice clear as day, laced with disgust, like you were nothing more than an inconvenience. A stain on the perfect future they had crafted for their only son.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You knew this day would come. You’ve spent every moment since meeting Woojung bracing for it, waiting for reality to remind you that you don’t belong in his world. His family had always envisioned a polished, powerful woman at his side—an heiress with old money, prestige, someone who wouldn’t look out of place standing beside him at galas and business meetings.

Not you.

And yet, here he is. Holding you. His arms wrapped securely around your frame, as if shielding you from a war you both know has already begun. His lips press against your forehead, lingering, trying to soothe something too deep to fix.

“I don’t care what they think,” he murmurs, voice low but firm. “It’s you I want.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your hands fisting the fabric of his expensive dress shirt. It’s so easy to believe him when he’s this close, when his heartbeat thrums steadily against your ear.

But doubt gnaws at you. You want to ask, For how long? How long until the pressure is too much? Until you realize they were right?

But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters.