You didn’t know what hurt more—the weight of the ring on your finger, or the silence between you and Hyunjin on your wedding night.
The suite was enormous, echoing with luxury. Velvet curtains, a bed that looked like a throne, and a man who refused to look at you.
Hyunjin stood by the window, suit still on, hair tousled from the ceremony. “I didn’t want this,” he muttered, voice barely audible above the rain tapping the glass.
“I know,” you replied, fingers clutching your bouquet like it could anchor you to something real. “Neither did I.”
Your marriage wasn’t born of love. It was stitched together by old family debts and cold contracts signed with silver pens and shaking hands. You were just collateral, a pawn handed to the golden heir of the Hwang family.
But Hyunjin… Hyunjin used to be your childhood friend.
Before life got cruel. Before he changed.
He used to smile at you, draw on your arms with markers, say things like “I’ll protect you forever.” But now, he couldn’t even meet your eyes.
Days passed, wrapped in marble walls and polite tension. He’d leave early, come home late, sometimes with lipstick on his collar, and you never asked. You weren’t allowed to care. Not really.
But you did.
You cared so much, it made your bones ache.
One night, you went out. A bar with blinding lights and music that vibrated through your ribs. Two of your guy friends, four girls—your laughter blurred with the bass, fingers wrapped around a chilled glass. It felt nice to breathe, to pretend for a second that the world didn’t know your name, that you weren’t the wife of a man who wouldn’t touch you.
Then your phone buzzed.
[1 New Message: Hyunjin]
“Where are you.”
Not a question. A statement. Sharp, clipped. You stared at the screen. Before you could type, another one came in.
“Come home. Now.”
You didn’t reply.
When you got home, it was past midnight. The lights were still on.
He was waiting.
Hyunjin stood by the door like a storm in a pressed shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw tight. “Had fun?” he asked, voice low and venomous.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” you said, trying to move past him, but his hand slammed against the wall, caging you in.
“Two guys? Drunk? At midnight?” His voice wasn’t loud—it was cold. Deadly. “Do you have a death wish?”