Y/N|

Months?

A letter? My brain tried to stitch all the pieces together but the threads slipped through my fingers.

A light pressure on my shoulder made me blink. Jungkook's thumb brushed there, his eyes searching mine.
"Are you okay? You keep zoning out," he said softly. "Look, you can tell me if there's anything bothering you."

"N-no, really, I'm fine. It's just... I'm tired," I lied, clutching at the excuse like a lifeline.

He nodded immediately, no suspicion in his eyes. "Then you should take some rest. Go sleep... it's late."
He rose from the bed and the soft mattress tilted under me.

I stared at him, stunned. Really? He just told me to sleep, without any second thought?

"Umm... do you need something?" he asked when he caught me staring.

"Huh? No... I-I should-" I mumbled and scrambled to grab my nightwear. My fingers shook as I closed the bathroom door behind me.

Inside, I leaned against the cool tiles, breathing hard. The mirror caught my face - pale, scattered, but there was a strange flicker of relief in my eyes.

I splashed cold water over my cheeks again and again, trying to drown the storm in my chest. Little droplets slid down my jaw, cooling the burn there. Slowly, I let out a shaky exhale.

Nothing would happen tonight.
Nothing.

Unknowingly, a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. He was... a nice man. Maybe the kindest man I had ever met.

When I walked out of the bathroom, wiping my damp palms on my nightwear, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

Jungkook was bent over, straightening the sheets, plumping the pillows, actually preparing the bed....with that calm, focused expression that somehow made my stomach flutter.

Even though nothing had happened yet, my heart was drumming like a war drum. Do we really have to share a bed?

The thought alone sent goosebumps crawling up my arms. I had spent my whole life avoiding boys, and now,suddenly-I was supposed to share a room... a bed... with a man I had just met today.

My thoughts swirled into panic until he spoke, soft but firm"You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Huh?"For a moment, I stared at him....did I hear it right?

"I said , you can sleep on the bed I will be sleeping on the couch, we just got married so I can't stay out tonight and we don't live alone so you do understand what I mean, right?"

Yeah , his family will start assuming something is wrong between us , I understand.

I blinked, guilt bubbling in my stomach....

He had to take the couch so I won't feel awkward, suddenly I was feeling bad and at the same time I was relieved he wasn't having those intentions, oh god it's really confusing.

Should I say something? Should I stop him? My brain screamed yes, but my legs moved on instinct, and I climbed onto the bed, feeling the weight of awkwardness and guilt all at once.

It was his room, after all. It felt unfair to let him sleep on the couch.

I hesitated, then said softly,"Mr Jeon!"

"Yeah?" he said adjusting the pillow on the couch.

"It won't be an issue... sharing the bed. I'll stay on my side."finally , I said it!

For a few seconds he just stared at me and then suddenly He chuckled, a soft, warm laugh that made me tilt my head in confusion.

I blinked at him, confused. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he said, still trying to hold back his grin. "No, it's not that."

"Then... why are you laughing?" I whispered, cheeks heating instantly. Why the hell had I said that without thinking?

Great. I had officially embarrassed myself.

He took a step toward me, still chuckling. "Wait... come here." He turned me gently toward the mirror on the wall.

I froze when I saw my reflection.

There it was - my fake eyelash - hanging under my nose like a miniature black moustache. Not just any moustache, a Charlie Chaplin moustache.

I gasped. My hands shot up to my face. "Oh. My. God."

Jungkook doubled over, laughing silently into his fist like a kid caught sneaking candy. "I-I didn't want to say anything but-"

This is next level embarrassment.

I froze for a fraction of a second, my brain short-circuiting from the horror of what I had just seen in the mirror. Then, with a Herculean effort, I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and tried to act like it was nothing.

"It's just fake eyelashes... totally normal..." I muttered under my breath, forcing my voice calm.

I mumbled a quick, awkward excuse and bolted straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. My heart was still hammering, and my hands shook as I leaned against the cool door, trying to convince myself that nobody had seen.

I peered into the mirror and couldn't stop the flush rising across my cheeks. The fake eyelash was still there, sticking out like a monument to my embarrassment.

I bit my palm hard, trying to suppress a scream that threatened to escape. Top-level embarrassing... the kind of embarrassing that should be illegal.

I closed my eyes, willing my reflection to disappear, but the image of myself, Charlie Chaplin reincarnated through a rogue eyelash....was burned into my mind.

Why had I even opened my mouth? Why had I stepped out thinking I could act cool?

I was doomed.

When I finally opened the bathroom door, I peeked into the room.

Jungkook was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his forehead, his shirt untucked, hair slightly messy, looking completely at ease, like the world's softest movie scene. The sight made me exhale a shaky laugh.

He tilted his head toward me and smiled. "Ah, you're back. All fixed?"

I raised a brow and crossed my arms, trying to look cool. "Yeah. Fixed."

"Good," he said with a tiny smirk, "because Charlie Chaplin just texted me. He wants his mustache back."

My jaw dropped and then,"Now you are pulling my legs," I muttered, covering my face.

He sat up a little on the couch. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. It happens. You know, in my first school ID photo, half my fringe was glued to my forehead with ice cream. Kids called me 'sticky bangs' for two years."

I bit back the smile forming on my lips, the tension melting away like butter in a hot pan. "Seriously?"

"Yeah" he said, chuckling. "We all have our moments."

felt the knot in my chest loosen. I looked at him lying there, still giving me space, still keeping his word.

"You're taking the couch? Won't it be uncomfortable?" I asked softly.

He nodded. "I said I would. Don't worry, I'm comfy here. The bed is yours"

Guilt tugged at me. "But... it's your room."

He smiled, soft and reassuring. "And now it's yours as well, and your comfort matters!"

★★★

Sleep was the last thing that came to me that night.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling where shadows from the window danced like quiet ghosts. My mind refused to shut off.

It spun and spun, a whirlwind of chaos, anger, and disbelief.

My sister-in-law.

Her smile, her pitiful words, her hand on my shoulder before I left, it all replayed like a cruel movie in my head.

I was so sure now.

She had deliberately set this marriage. This wasn't some spontaneous decision made in a day or two. This was a trap built carefully, brick by brick.

Of course she had issues with me since day one. I was the thorn in her perfect garden, the "little sister" who lived under their roof yet never completely bent to her rules.

And now... now I was out. Out of the house. Out of their way.

My hands curled into the blanket as the realization burned inside me.

I still remember it as if it happened yesterday. My eighteenth birthday, the day I'd been counting down to since I was fifteen.

The day I told myself would be the start of something big. I had spent weeks planning it: the dress, the decorations, the playlist, even the cake. It was supposed to be my day.

Back then, my brother was my whole world. He'd promised me a grand party, even teased me about the "surprise" he was planning. And I believed him. I was so sure nothing could ruin it.

Until she came.

My sister-in-law,not yet his wife, but already staking her claim... arrived that morning, her eyes red from crying, her voice quiet but heavy.

She said she couldn't stop thinking about how my brother had "forgotten" their anniversary, an anniversary of what, I didn't even know; they weren't married, just dating.

But she wanted to celebrate it anyway, she said softly, almost apologetically, and she looked at my brother as if he'd shattered her heart.

And my brother? He folded like paper. All it took was one look.

That evening, instead of putting the finishing touches on my cake and balloons, I stood in the corner of the venue watching them cut an "anniversary cake" first.

My brother smiled awkwardly, muttering excuses to me. "It's just a small thing, YN... you understand, right? We'll do yours right after."

Right after.

By the time they finally lit the candles on my birthday cake, the air had already soured.

Half the guests had drifted away, the music felt dull, and the sparkle I'd imagined since days was gone. My dress,the one I'd chosen so carefully...felt like a costume.

My hands shook as I cut the cake.

I kept my face neutral, but the photos from that night show it all: me smiling but my eyes glassy. My brother's hand on her back. Her satisfied, shy smile.

I cried my heart out in my room after everyone left.

Muffling the sobs into my pillow so no one could hear.

My eighteenth birthday, the day I was supposed to feel like a queen,was reduced to a background decoration for someone else's "anniversary."

That was the night I learned what she was capable of, how easily she could bend him, and how easily I could be pushed aside.

I did try. God knows I tried to warn him so many times.

I can still see us on the balcony, the night he told me he was getting married, after barely a year of dating her.

The words hit me so hard my smile almost cracked. I tried to keep my voice steady, tried not to sound like the bitter younger sister.

"Oppa... don't you think it's too soon? Maybe check her background? Her family?" I'd asked, fiddling with the hem of my shirt as if it was no big deal.

But he just sighed, looking at me with those soft eyes that always melted me when I was a kid.

"She has no one, YN. No parents, no close relatives. It's just me. I can't make her feel like she's alone in this world."

At first I felt bad for her. No family, no support, anyone would pity her. But the vibes she gave off were wrong.

They crawled under my skin, whispering danger, manipulation, something I couldn't even name but could feel every time she smiled at me.

I wanted to save him. I wanted to shake him until he saw what I saw. But what's written is already written. Within months, the engagement was set. Within weeks, they were married.

And the moment she walked into our house, everything began to shift. Not overnight... no, she was too clever for that. It happened slowly, like a thread pulling loose.

My brother started to change.

He wasn't cruel, not even distant, but his first instinct was no longer me.

Every decision, every little thing I wanted to do, suddenly needed "discussion." "Let me talk to her first," he'd say.

He was a rich businessman, my big brother who once spoiled me, who made sure I never lacked anything... and yet he told his wife to take over household expenses, the things I'd always handled..... it's not like I would mind her doing those things.

But what the real problem was, my opinions didn't matter after that day, whatever I suggested she refused everything saying we are rich so we need to think like one , we don't need cheap products in our house and so she started buying luxurious items without stuttering.

She did everything she desired, with that sweet smile, those tilted eyes, that quiet manipulation that somehow always made me the problem.

Brick by brick, she built a wall between us. I could see it. I could feel it. And he... he just didn't. Or maybe he didn't want to.

I swallowed every warning until they turned bitter in my throat.

I'd swallowed her taunts for years. I'd watched her tear my brother away from me piece by piece. But that night, that night broke something in me.

I was in my second year of college, already exhausted from lectures and assignments. When I came home, our house was full of noise.

Not just normal party noise.... high-pitched, nails-on-glass shrieking. Laughter that didn't belong in our home.

She was having one of her little parties with her spoiled friends.

God knows who those women even were; I'd never seen decent women behave like that.

They swarmed through the house like starving dogs at a butcher's stall, yes, that's exactly what they looked like, because the moment they saw the food on the table, they lunged.

Plates clattering, voices rising, perfume thick in the air.

I tried to shut my door, tried to pretend I didn't exist. But they peeked into every room like it was a museum, like every inch of the house was theirs to touch.

When one of them opened my door without knocking, something inside me snapped. My chest tightened, my palms were shaking - my anxiety was already screaming.....and they touched my things, the documents I had arranged so neatly at the table.

One was touching my personal items and 'accidentally' dropped my favourite perfume.

"Get out," I told them, voice trembling but loud enough to cut through their giggles. "This is my room. You can't just-"

And then she came. My sister-in-law. Perfect makeup, perfect smirk. She didn't apologise for them. She didn't even look surprised.

Instead she tilted her head, eyes cold, and said in front of everyone,
"You're living on your brother's money. At least behave properly in front of guests."

For a moment I couldn't breathe. Did she just-? In my own room? In my own house? The humiliation burned my cheeks but the anger burned hotter.

That one sentence cut the last thread of my patience. I could taste blood on my tongue from biting it too hard.

I'd tried being quiet. I'd tried respecting her. But that night... that night, I was done.

When the party finally ended and the last of her friends tottered out with their fake laughs and smeared lipstick, I went straight to my brother.

My hands were still shaking. My ears still ringing.

I told him everything, every word she'd said, every smirk, every invasion of my space. I expected anger. I expected him to protect me, like he used to when we were younger.

But instead he just sighed. Sighed.
"YN," he said, rubbing his temples, "you're angry. You're tired from college. You're probably misunderstanding."

Misunderstanding? My own ears had betrayed me now?

He didn't yell at me, but his words hurt more than yelling ever could.
"Just... be good with her, okay? She's new to the family. She's trying."

Trying? She'd insulted me in my own room, in our own house, in front of strangers, and he wanted me to try?

And she ....oh, she was brilliant. Standing at the kitchen doorway with her soft eyes and folded hands, acting as if she'd heard nothing, as if she was worried about me.

When he looked her way, she even gave a small, sad smile like she was the victim. And he bought it.

In that moment, it felt like the last piece of my brother was slipping from my hands.

I stood there, stunned, blinking back tears, wondering how she managed to twist everything until I was the problem.

That was the night I realised: she was dangerous, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

After that night everything became different. Subtle at first, a suggestion here, a sly comment there...but it became clear she was planting seeds in my brother's head.

"YN should get married," she would say lightly over tea, as if she was talking about the weather. "She's at that age. It'll be good for her."

He always refused, at first. "She's still studying," he'd reply, frowning at her tone. "Stop bringing it up."

But she never stopped. Like drops of water wearing down stone.

And then came that day.

Our driver hadn't shown up, and I was late after a lab session. Kim Taehyung , our neighbour, a kind doctor who often helped me with books and advice, offered me a lift.

It wasn't the first time. In our town everyone knew everyone; it wasn't unusual. I accepted, relieved, chatting about mundane things on the way home.

The moment I stepped inside, though, the air felt heavy. My brother sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, fury simmering under his skin.

"Oppa?" I said cautiously.
His eyes flicked to me, cold, unfamiliar.

He didn't ask about my day. Didn't ask why I was late. He only said, "You are going to Seoul."

For a second I thought I'd misheard him. "Seoul?" My voice cracked. "Why Seoul? My college is here."

He straightened, his jaw hard. "I've already admitted you to a medical institute in Seoul. You'll continue your studies there."

It hit me like a slap. No discussion. No warning. Just a decision, made for me.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to shout that he was pushing me away, that I wasn't a burden. But he didn't look like the brother I remembered. He looked like someone else entirely, a stranger wearing my brother's face.

That night I lay awake thinking about it. My anger faded into a strange, hollow calm. Maybe, I told myself, this was good.

Maybe I'd finally get some peace, away from their games and their manipulation.

So I agreed. Quietly.

Because at that point, what else could I do?

My time in Seoul was like finally breathing fresh air after years of suffocation.

I had my classes, my hospital hours, my small circle of friends. I was building something of my own, brick by brick, far from her shadow. For the first time, I thought maybe I'd escaped her orbit.

But she had a way of finding me.

At first it was calls. Unknown numbers, persistent rings at odd hours. I ignored them until my brother's voice appeared on the screen, telling me to pick up, to "at least be polite." So, against my better judgement, I did.

Then came the gifts. One after another, as if she was trying to buy a place in my life. Dresses, perfumes, trinkets, things she knew I didn't want but sent anyway.

And then a floral dress. She called it "pretty" and "just perfect" for me. She practically begged for a photo of me wearing it.

I refused.

Still she pushed, and I had to shut her down with a clipped, firm message. After that, the calls stopped for a while. I thought maybe she'd given up.

I focused on my studies. Only a few months away from my certificate, only a few months away from that white coat with my name stitched on the pocket.

We even celebrated after my morning lecture that day, my friends, my professors, a small cake and the weight of relief in my chest. After all the obstacles, I'd finally gotten here.

And then, the messages.

When I came back to my dorm after the lecture, my phone screen was lit up like fireworks, dozens of texts from my brother, some missed calls.

My stomach sank with each vibration. Something was wrong.

I told myself it would be just one day. I'd go there tonight, hear him out, and tomorrow I'd be back in Seoul, back to my life, my hospital, my dream.

I packed a small bag.

That was the plan.

The moment I stepped inside the house, my heart stumbled.

Gift boxes, dozens of them... were stacked on the couch like a showroom display. Ribbons, shimmering paper, gold seals.

Were we going to a wedding?A festival?

Some big celebration I wasn't told about?

My eyes scanned the boxes until they landed on one. My breath snagged. On the label, written in neat black script:

Bride Name: Kim YN.

For a second, everything inside me went blank.

What...?

No. It had to be some kind of joke.

My fingers trembled as I tore the box open.

Inside lay a heavy wedding gown, snow-white, glimmering under the hall light, perfectly my size. My throat dried instantly.

And then, her voice.

My sister-in-law's venom laced in sugar.

"Oh YN, did you like the dress?" she cooed from behind me. "I hired the most expensive designers to make it for you. Don't worry, the size will be perfect. I gave them a few of your clothes for measurements."

"Why?"It was the only thing that escaped my lips.

"Because you're getting married. Tomorrow."This time, it was my brother's voice,flat, final... and it made my heart stop.

No.

No, this was a prank. They were bad at jokes but surely not this cruel.
"Stop joking, oppa," I said, forcing a shaky laugh.

But he didn't laugh.

He didn't even look at me.

"Your marriage is fixed. Get ready for tomorrow."

"No," I whispered, the sound cracking in my throat. "You can't decide anything without asking me first!"

"Oh YN," my sister-in-law chimed in, her tone honey-coated. "He's your brother. He'll always choose the best for you."

"It's happening. Prepare yourself. I've already given them my word," my brother said quietly, still refusing to meet my eyes.

I stood there, clutching the fabric of the gown, my entire world tilting.

My brother stepped closer, voice calm but insistent."YN... he's a good man. Decent. He'll take care of you. You don't have to worry."

I shook my head, my chest tightening.
"I don't care. I never agreed to this. I will never agree."

Her voice, smooth and poisonous, cut through the air.

"Yes, YN," my sister-in-law added, almost sweetly, "he's the perfect match for you. Just like... made for each other. You'll see. It's for your own good."

I couldn't stand it. The words burned in my ears, and something inside me snapped.

Without a word, I grabbed the gown... that cursed white gown, and threw it to the floor. My hands trembled with anger and disbelief.

"I said no," I hissed, my voice low but sharp, my back stiff as a board.

I turned on my heel and stormed toward the stairs, determined to escape their suffocating house, their suffocating control.

But her voice stopped me."YN..."

"Please, YN..." her voice was sugar-laced but heavy with poison, "...whatever your brother is doing is for your own good. You know he cares for you. He raised you like his own kid. At least you can repay his kindness by doing this much, hmm?"

Repay.

That word hit me like a blade, sliding between my ribs and twisting. Repay?
For what? For being born? For existing? For loving him?

I turned to my brother, my own brother...searching for his eyes, for some sign that he'd correct her, defend me, say no this is wrong.

But he didn't.

He just stood there, shoulders stiff, jaw tight, and gave me that cold look that was a stranger's.

And then came the one sentence that crushed every last piece of me:
"If you ever respected me as your elder brother, then say yes, YN."

Repay.Respect.Sacrifice.

Each word a dagger. Each word tearing apart the girl who'd once believed family would never betray her.

I felt something break inside me. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just... gone.

That memory still stung like salt in a wound.

I will never forgive them!

★★★