Even if Things Were Different
Synopsis: You and Jisung get into an arranged marriage, but he hasn’t given up on love quite just yet.
Warning: implications of anxieties, pg-13 kiss
Word Count: 8.6k
Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung
You look up to Jisung’s eyes. They look lifeless, and his lips are pressed into a firm line.
“I do.”
The priest says something and the audience erupts in applause. You look to your right and see the white train of your dress stretching far, far away from your body. That’s how your soul feels too.
You feel someone tugging on your veil and realize your groom is supposed to kiss you now. You simply close your eyes and let him. You then place your hand on the crook of his arm, and he leads you down the aisle. He shakes ever so slightly under your touch, so you give him a gentle squeeze. Keep it together, you want to urge him, there’s still the reception.
It is not until you arrive at a mansion that’s supposed to be your new home do the two of you find yourselves alone. The whole ride there, your spouse silently avoided looking at you, so it is to no surprise he quickly bids you good night and disappears into the room next to the master’s rather than the master’s itself.
You sigh to yourself and let him be. After all, you understand his emotions. You have only seen each other twice before today: once with your respective parents and once to sign the legal papers. You are, however, handling everything rather well, you note as you step out of your dress. You’ve been prepared for this. Ever since you were born, you know your greatest asset to your business and your family is your left ring finger. Love is reserved only for fairy tales, and you are no princess-- you’re an heiress.
At least, that’s what you remind yourself as you wipe off the last of your mascara and look at your sunken features in the mirror.
Rather than heading to bed, you turn on the lamp on the nightstand and pull out your laptop. You’ve already wasted an entire day at the ceremony, and business isn’t going to do itself. An hour later, you hear a bath running from the adjacent room. Looks like you aren’t the only one who can’t sleep.
You don’t think much of Jisung as you look through last month’s transactions with China until you hear the softest of sniffles from the wall. At first, you pass it off as your imagination until you hear it again. And then again.
You don’t care for him, but you aren’t a monster either. Quietly, you set your laptop aside and walk over to the next room. The door is unlocked, so you let yourself in and stand before the bathroom. After a moment of hesitation, you rap your knuckles against the wood twice.
Immediately, the sniffling stops.
“Y-Y/N?” the person inside stutters. “You’re awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. Did I wake you? I’ll be quiet now.”
You bite your lip at how small he sounds, a stark contrast to the confident, put-together man on the business card your parents gave you before you met.
“No, you didn’t, and that’s not why I’m here.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “T-then how can I help you?”
“I just wanted to see if you were alright, but I guess that question is kind of silly now.”
A sniffle. “Yeah…”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” You grimace at your words. What is this, a funeral?
His light chuckle makes you relax a bit though. “It’s as much of a loss for me as it is for you.”
“It’s different. I’ve prepared for this my whole life,” you hum, leaning your back against his door. “Your parents never told you, did they?”
“Nah, they barely even showed their faces to me,” he says too humorously for the implications of the sentence. You laugh along though; such things are normal for kids like you two.
“Did you have a girlfriend?” you ask carefully, trying to gauge his situation.
“I didn’t, but I always thought I would, you know? Like in those movies. I was going to plan a water fountain show and maybe throw in some fireworks in the back as I tell her how I feel. I’ll have candles and rose petals and everything… These fantasies must seem so stupid to someone like you who knew all along, don’t they?”
“No, it’s… it’s cute. Admirable even, that you have such strong faith in something so abstract.”
“You sound like you don’t believe in love, Y/N.”
“I’ve never experienced it,” you admit without hesitation. “It’s not that I don’t believe it; I just don’t think it’s for me, so I find those who can embody such a thing exemplary.”
“That’s… so sad…”
You shake your head even though he cannot see you. “It’s more regretful when a loving heart is smothered by something like this arrangement.”
“Well…”
A silence veils over the conversation except for the occasional sounds of water being displaced. You break tranquility first.
“Or maybe it doesn’t have to be. Smothered I mean.”
You imagine him raising a questioning brow.
“See other women,” you suggest. “It isn’t uncommon among high executives like you.”
Suddenly, the door flies open, and you nearly fall backwards if it isn’t for the arms that catch you. You look up and see Jisung looking down back at you. The redness of his eyes from crying is still there, but they hold anger now instead of pain.
“Don’t say that,” he warns. “Don’t you dare say that. Whether I like this marriage or not, I will not betray my wife like that.”
A small “okay” is all you can muster as he puts you back on your feet and walks past you with a towel around his waist. You stare at his back as an unfamiliar sense of warmth sputters in your chest.
The next morning, you grab a bottle of water before heading to the room you’ve decided will be your office and start working. The numbers on your screen have already been improving since your partnership with Han Enterprises began. For some reason though, they don’t make you happy.
There’s some noise outside. You figure it is Jisung waking up. You look at the clock and see that it is nearing eleven. How slow your morning has been surprises you, but not as much as when your husband pokes his head through the doorframe.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asks.
You take off your computer glasses to look at him. “No, not yet.”
Jisung scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t think so. Well, it’s almost lunch time. Do you want to come down for food? I’ll make instant ramen.”
You can’t help but laugh a little at his choice of cuisine. It is a unique one for someone worth a couple million dollars.
“I’ll take that as a yes then?”
“Sure,” you agree, closing your laptop. It’s only proper to make the time of day for your spouse after all.
“What are you working on anyway?” he inquires. “I thought our parents were expecting us to take the week off.”
“Deadlines are still approaching, and I don’t trust anyone else to do things right,” you explain, stretching your arms behind you to relieve the tension.
Jisung frowns at your casual words, but you don’t notice. Instead, you go to the fridge for eggs while he fills a pot up with water. The faucet, however, decides to not cooperate and sputters in hiccups.
You look over upon hearing the noise. “The house is brand new, so they mustn’t have had the time to test out everything yet. I’ll call the handyman later.”
He lets out a hum of acknowledgement and continues waiting patiently. When the noodles are finally chewy, you sit down at the countertop and wait for him to do the same. He places a bowl in front of you and takes a seat across the table. He then eyes the newspaper next to the fruit bowl. He must have brought it in himself this morning since you haven’t hired help yet.
Seeing his interest, you nudge the papers towards him. He thanks you and pulls out a pen and the Sudoku section.
“I’m not very good at this, but it’s kind of fun,” he tells you. “Do you know how to play?”
“Kind of,” you reply as he fills in two numbers. “That’s a three.”
“I knew that,” he pouts humorously.
You chuckle softly and watch him while chewing on noodles. Soon, however, he comes to a halt and runs a hand through his hair.
“Need help?” you giggle.
“I--!” His cheeks puff out in annoyance before they and his ego deflate. “Yeah…”
You hand him his chopsticks which he has forgotten in his passion for the puzzle. “That’s a five,” you point.
“How’d you know?” He breaks into the egg.
“Cause these two are either an eight or a two, and since they’re in the same box, this has to be a five.”
His mouth forms an ‘o’ to either air out the heat of the egg yolk or in astonishment. You watch him drag his pen along the columns and rows before stopping at another square. “So this is a four?”
“Mmhm. You learn quickly.”
He smiles proudly and writes in the number. You smile in return and notice how far towards each other you’ve both leaned to see the Sudoku. These numbers, you realize, do make you happy.
After lunch, you return to your study. Two hours later, Jisung joins you there with his own laptop. You aren’t sure why he chose the same room as you when there are plenty others in the house, but you don’t complain; the office is big enough for the both of you.
Before you realize the sun begins to set, so once again, Jisung is the one who has to remind you to eat again.
“Should we get takeout or go to a restaurant?” he asks you. “We probably shouldn’t eat ramen two meals in a row, and there isn’t much in the fridge.”
“Let’s just order in pizza,” you reply mindlessly, scanning over the Excel spreadsheet one more time.
“Great. We can put on a movie or something too,” he nods while pulling a pizza parlor website on his phone.
You look up at him apologetically as your computer saves the spreadsheet. “I’m sorry. I have a project due tomorrow. I suggested pizza hoping I could stay in and finish it.”
Jisung flashes you a grin which confuses you. He then turns his own laptop so that you can see his screen. “You mean this project?”
“H-how did you--”
“Our companies are extensions of each other now, remember?” he reminds you. “That means I have access to a lot of your files. Turns out your employees are very capable after all; they just needed a little guidance.”
“So you-- this whole afternoon--?”
He shrugs. “I have the whole week off with nothing to do anyway.”
Your mouth opens and closes soundlessly a few times before you finally say, “Thank you.”
He nods and looks back at his phone. “The pie will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“What’d you get?”
He hands you his device. “Your secretary said that’s your preferred order.”
“Actually, I wanted a Louis XIII. You know, the twelve thousand dollar pizza from Italy?”
His movements hiccup until he looks at you and sees you smiling. He then rolls his eyes and shuts off your laptop. “Come on. No more work for tonight. Let’s pick a movie.”
The next morning, wake up and get changed. You had agreed to visit the mall with Jisung today to pick out decorations and furniture for your new home.
Groggily, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of water. As you turn on the faucet, you remind yourself that you have to call the plumber today. To your surprise though, the water flows smoothly into your cup.
“Morning,” Jisung yawns behind you.
“Good morning. It looks like the plumbing is fixed.”
“Oh yeah. One of the screws was loose, so I found a wrench and tightened it.”
“Y-you did?”
Jisung laughs once. “Just because I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth doesn’t mean I don’t know how to look things up on YouTube.”
“Right. Sorry, I’m just not used to things getting done for me.”
“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles. “Anyway. Let me know when you’re ready. I want to try that crepe place at the mall I told you about.”
You down your glass of water. “I’m set. Let’s go.”
Jisung bounces excitedly towards the door. As he does so, you notice that his collar is turned upwards.
“Wait!” you call, and he turns around curiously.
You reach up and straighten his clothes for him, running your fingers along the edge to make sure it’s perfect.
“T-thanks…” he mumbles, his earlier energy contained into something much more timid.
You don’t notice his sudden change in demeanor or the way he stays frozen in his spot, following you with only his eyes, as you grab your purse and open the door.
“You coming?”
The mall is enjoyable. You stay longer than you planned, but for once you aren’t complaining about how it will set back your work schedule. Jisung has excused himself to use the restroom, so you stand by the door, promising to wait there for him.
After a while, a jewelry store across the way catches your attention. You make a quick trip over and admire a ring on the display. You aren’t sure how long you spent doing so, but at some point, your phone buzzes and you snap your head up, realizing Jisung must be done with his business by now.
‘Han Jisung: where r u?’
You look around while walking back to the restroom only to find that he isn’t there. At last, you find him by a nearby kiosk stand, swarmed by a passing crowd, clutching his phone to his chest.
“Jisung!” You wave to catch his attention and notice how his eyes dart around sporadically to find you. “Jisung. I’m right here,” you assure him when you’ve gotten closer.
The way he looks at you, eyes brimmed with tears when he finally recognizes your voice, sets off alarms in your system.
“Y--Y/N…”
“It’s okay; it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m right here.”
“I-- I--”
Without thinking, you pull him into your arms. Gently, you whisper, “Shh. Let’s just go home now, okay?”
You feel him nodding into your shoulder, so you let him stand up straight and lead him out to the valet, all the while not letting go of his hand.
Once home, you draw him a warm bath in his jacuzzi tub. When it’s ready, you call him and are surprised to see him in swimming trunks rather than a bathrobe.
“C-can you stay with me?” he requests sheepishly.
“Of course.” You gently take his hand again and help him into the tub, careful not to trigger anything.
He closes his eyes and relaxes against the ceramic, but he does not let go of your hand.
“I’m sorry,” you finally apologize once you’ve gained the courage. “I should have stayed by the door like I promised.”
He turns to the side, puts your hand on the ledge, and rests his head on it. You can still feel him shaking.
“I thought you left…”
You are confused but wait patiently for him to continue.
He does. “I thought you left me. I thought you had enough of this arrangement and left. It’s the first time since the wedding since we’ve been apart after all. I thought I was left all alone in that mall surrounded by people I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry…” you say again, pathetically.
Jisung stays silent and sighs against your hand. At least you can feel his shaking slowing down. “But you came back.”
“Yeah…”
“I-if you ever do want to leave though…” he begins again with uncertainty.
“I don’t.”
His eyes spring open at your sudden tone. Even you are surprised by the vigor in your voice.
“But if you do--”
“Jisung, arranged or not, I will not leave whom I’ve sworn to be with until death.”
The smile that grows on his face tells you he is pleased with your words. He isn’t shaking anymore.
“You know, Y/N.”
“Hm?”
“I’m not going to give up finding love. Even if I am already married.”
His decision statement stirs up something unfamiliar in you. It feels as if your stomach has dropped to your knees. “Oh.”
“I don’t think you get what I mean,” he chuckles. You look down and see him looking back up at you, his head still resting on its side on the tub. He pulls your hand out from under and fiddles with the single band on your finger. “Can I move into the master bedroom?”
The sun shines through the window, making you grimace. As you try to get up, you feel a tug on your hand and remember that Jisung has his own hand wrapped around it. He can’t sleep without holding onto something, he claims, and the bed isn’t big enough for him to acclimate his giant stuffed pig alongside the two of you.
You can’t help but smile unconsciously at the said man. His face has become one with his pillow and his limbs are anywhere but where they should be. Your mother would call it imprudent, but you find it endearing.
Gently, you lift his fingers off your hand and slip out of bed for the restroom. He lets out a sad whimper, but you have to get changed for the day.
You smile to your reflection as you pull your hair out from beneath the straps of your undergarment. You had slept well and are practically glowing when--
“I can’t believe you got up without-- OH MY! I’M SO SORRY!”
Your head snaps to the open door and you hold your dress urgently against yourself as you make out a human-shaped tomato standing at the threshold.
“At least cover your eyes or something!” you screech back.
Instead of doing as told, Jisung just stands there, gawking like a broken coo-coo clock.
“Han Jisung!” you yell and throw the door closed in his face.
“I’m sorry!” he says again, apparently back to his senses now. “But why’d you leave the door open?”
“I thought you were sleeping!”
“I told you I can only sleep when I’m holding something, so I woke up when that something left!”
You chuckle and he joins. Soon, the both of you are laughing at the accident.
“You know, you don’t have to be ashamed of what I saw,” he jokes.
You open the door once you’ve put on your dress. “Yah,” you warn. “Don’t push it.”
He smiles from being able to see you again. “What?” he asks innocently.
You poke his cheek with a pout. He laughs again and pushes some hair out of your face.
“But seriously though. You’re beautiful,” he tells you again once the laughter quiets down.
“W-what’s wrong with you?” you stammer. “If you’re feeling sick, you should see a doctor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes with a sloppy grin.
The end of your week-long stay-at-home vacation not only means going back to the office, but also to parties. More specifically, the Seo’s annual art gala.
“Y/N?” Jisung calls up the stairs.
“She’s ready!” your servant responds in your steed.
Carefully, you descend the staircase, your black heels breaking out of the slit in your gold dress with every step. Like in the movies, Jisung turns around and forgets how to breathe as he watches you come down.
“Well? Shall we go?” you suggest.
“Wow…” is all he can say in reply.
At the party, you and Jisung greet a fair amount of people together. At last, you find the opportunity to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Seo themselves.
“And the Masamune dagger collection. My, you really do outdo yourselves every year.”
Mrs. Seo titters at the compliment. “Why thank you, Mrs. Han. It’s rare to see someone who appreciates more art than just the Van Goghs and Vermeers.”
Mrs. Han. The name makes you feel a little jolt no matter how many times you hear it. Whether you admit it or not though, the connotation behind each jolt has been shifting over time.
“Well, you are my inspiration when it comes to artistic collections, Mrs. Seo, so it is only natural I see the beauty in pieces of your own heart.”
“Oh, Sweetie, you flatter me.”
Mr. Seo, seeing another guest that needs greeting, places a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Well it’s been great seeing you two again. Changbin should be around here somewhere. Make sure that rascal says ‘hi’ to you too.”
“Alright,” Jisung chuckles politely. “I’ll see to it that he behaves tonight. It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Seo, Mrs. Seo.”
“‘Behaves?’” a voice from behind repeats.
You turn around and see the Seo heir standing there with a brow raised at Jisung. Rather than a courteous response, the younger male makes a face at his friend.
They fall into a short banter with you laughing on the side. At one point, Jisung looks over and smiles.
“This is my wife, Y/N,” he introduces.
Changbin offers you a hand that you shake. “Right. Beautiful wedding.”
He says it out of obligation. All of you know you have no authority over your spouse, let alone your wedding plans.
“Thank you,” you say anyway. Turning to Jisung, “Do you want to spend some time with him? I need to greet the Wynns, so you should have fun with your friend.”
“You sure?” He looks a little worried, but you can see the excitement in his eyes.
“Of course.” You assure him with your best smile and bid Changbin goodbye.
As you leave, you hear the Seo pat Jisung on the back, sympathizing with his arranged marriage. “At least she’s pretty.”
If you had turned around then, you would have seen the softest look on Jisung’s face. “Yeah… and much more too.”
For about an hour or so, you chat with business partners and clients alike. At some point, you see Changbin hurrying as formally as he can to his father upon hearing his name. You notice as you hand your waiter your empty champagne glass that Jisung is now separated from him. Fretfully, you glance around in search of your partner. Fears of a repetition of what happened at the mall bite at your ankles to find him quickly.
You sigh in relief when you spot him by the bar, a glass of something sitting forgotten in his hands. He isn’t alone though; besides him is a girl in a tight dress with her hands all over him-- pulling at his tie, swatting his shoulder, everything.
The relief on Jisung’s face when he sees you walking over only adds oil to the fire you were feeling in your eyes. How dare this woman when he is clearly uncomfortable?
“Hello,” you begin calmly, directing your statement to her. “I believe you are in my seat.”
She looks at you with disgust. “Your seat? What, does it have your name on it?”
“No, it doesn’t. But I do suggest that you return it without delay.”
“No way. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something, or are you blind?” she scoffs, turning back to Jisung.
“I advise you to take that back this instant.”
She stands up in your face now. “How dare you talk to me like that? Do you know who I am?”
“Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Miss Lee Saeyeong, fourth daughter of the president of Yumgul Publishings. The question is, do you know who I am?”
She flinches, clearly realizing that you outrank her by your tone.
You lean over and whisper dangerously, “You’re speaking to the executive director of the L/N group, Miss Lee, and the gentleman you were flirting with--” You back away and let a smile spread over your lips. “--is my husband.”
Saeyeong’s face drains of colour. She quickly bows and mumbles something before scurrying away.
You close your eyes and sigh. When you open them again, you see Jisung grinning at you.
“What?” you ask, taking the seat you just won.
“Nothing,” he hums.
This piques your interest. “What are you smiling at?”
“Just…” he swirls the straw in this drink. “Just the fact that you called me your husband.”
A blush creeps on your face. That is what he is, but suddenly, the term feels different. “It’s the truth.”
“Still,” he chirps. “Thank you. And thank you for saving me from the awkwardness too. She insisted that my wedding band was just for show and that I was looking for a girl who ‘persists for true love.’”
You scoff. “Wow, doesn’t she keep up with this sort of news? Knowing who’s married and who scored what deal is pretty important for keeping face in the business world.”
“It’s sad how many of the kids born into lives like ours fall into a crippling dependence on their father’s wealth.”
You nod in agreement, but your attention is elsewhere. From your peripherals, you see his tie hanging messily around his neck from the earlier girl’s antics.
“Is there something on my face?” Jisung inquires, sensing your distraction.
“No, let me just--” You get off your stool to stand closer to him. Your hands are quick to align the two ends of the accessory, and as you pull up the knot, your eyes travel up too, meeting his along the way.
Your breath hitches. You’re much closer than expected. Jisung does not move either as he freezes with equal shock. Then, he starts to tilt his head, and your eyelids begin to droop and--
Suddenly, you become aware of your surroundings and jump back. Your quick movement makes Jisung snap back into the present too.
“It’s um… it’s good now,” you squeak, tucking hair behind your ear to shield your blush with your hand.
“I’m glad,” you hear him say with his whole chest.
“I-it’s just a tie,” you stutter despite yourself.
He takes your wrist and turns you towards him. “No, I mean I’m glad I was arranged to marry you.”
The end of the month means extra hours at the office compiling reports. Thankfully though, you have just completed your last one, and it has to be sent to the Han Group. You trace your finger over Jisung’s name where he’s supposed to sign before springing out of your seat and heading out the door.
Your secretary looks up from her computer in surprise.
“I’m going to the Han Group to deliver something,” you tell her.
“I can fax it for you, Director,” she offers, but you wave your hand.
“I don’t have anything scheduled today, do I?”
She shakes her head.
“Great. Then I have a little time to deliver it myself. You can take it easy today too; it’s been a rough week.”
You can feel her surprised stare on your back. You are usually buried under piles of documents, not taking leisure strolls to your business partner’s company. There’s something special about this document that you did not know you cared about though, and maybe you still don’t truly understand why you are doing something like this, but it just feels like the right course of action right now. Neither you nor Jisung had been home much these days, and maybe, just maybe, you want to see him again.
What you did not expect, however, was the woman who stopped you from entering his office.
“Hello,” she greets, standing between you and the door. “Do you have an appointment with the Vice Chairman?” she asks like she already knows the answer.
The first thing that crosses your mind before her question is even processed is that she is immensely beautiful and curved in all the right places. The corner of your eye twitches and you pull your blazer a little tighter around yourself.
“I’m his wife,” you tell her calmly.
“Ah, his arranged wife,” she nods. “One moment please.”
She disappears into his office, leaving you feeling oddly offended by the way she referred to you. An unfamiliar spark tickles your stomach, and you decide that, no, you are not some guest that needs approval before visiting your own husband, so you place your right hand on the door and swing it open yourself. What you see inside though, fans that spark into a flame.
The woman from before is bent over Jisung’s desk, bosom on full display, as she writes something. She then straightens up with a pout and taps her pen on her cheek, to which Jisung chuckles and points to another spot on the page.
“Remember that the client number is always here, Secretary So,” he tells her.
Realizing that neither of them noticed your entrance, you clear your throat. Jisung’s head immediately snaps up, and a wide smile spreads across his face as he stands and bounces over to you.
“Y/N!”
Your own face has hardened into a stark comparison to his. You don’t take your eyes off the woman. “Care to introduce us?”
Jisung frowns a little at your demeanor but does as you asked. “Y/N, this is Secretary So, the new hire. She just came in for a little help getting used to the system around here. Secretary So, this is Y/N, my wife.”
Did she not tell him about your arrival at all? She waves elegantly to you, and you nod in response. You remember Jisung talking about his old secretary retiring, but why did he have to hire this person of all the candidates? Is it because-- Your eyes shift down from her face.
“Why are you here?” Jisung asks. In your distracted state, you miss the excitement in his voice. “Do you want to grab lunch? Ice cream?”
Your attention snaps back to him. “No, I--” You look between him and his new secretary. “I was just going to drop this off.” You stuff the file in his hands. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your ‘lesson.’”
Before he can stop you, you turn on your heels and show yourself out. You let out a sigh, wondering what the tightness in your chest is. Whatever it is, you don’t like it, and you wish it would go away.
“To the office?” your driver asks when you step into the valet.
You close your eyes and roll out your neck. “No. To my house, please,” you reply, earning your second pair of surprised eyes today.
“Y-yes. Ma’am.”
Next month’s projects can wait, you decide, feeling completely out of character. Right now, you want nothing more than to strangle a pillow.
That night, Jisung comes home to find you laying in bed. He’s early considering he planned a meeting with a corporate partner over some wine tonight; you expected him at least two hours later and was going to greet him normally once your emotions have calmed down. You hear him change and feel him slide into bed. He reaches for your hand as usual, but you turn over, pretending to be asleep. Maybe your emotions aren’t as calm as you thought they were.
“Y/N…” he whispers. You don’t move. He presses his hand against your forehead and cheek to check your temperature and lets out an audible sigh when it feels normal. He then lowers himself back onto the mattress a lot closer than you expect. You can feel his legs right behind yours.
Carefully, as if afraid to break you, his hand slides down your arm until his fingers interlace with yours like they do every night. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Did I do something?”
You aren’t sure why, but his question makes you start shaking. He draws shapes on your hand with his thumb to try to calm you.
When you don’t answer, he just continues rubbing your hand. It’s so comfortable that it almost makes you fall asleep for real. That is until he speaks again.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you reply before you can remember that you are supposed to be asleep.
“I don’t know. I just hate seeing you like this, and I can’t think of anything that could help.”
There’s no use pretending now. You turn back around, and your heart skips a beat when it realizes you’ve forgotten how close he is. His chest fills your entire vision, and his scent tickles your nose, making your muscles relax involuntarily.
“W-why are you home so early?” you divert the conversation.
He brings it back. “How could I stay out late when my wife looked at me like that in my office today? I rushed home as soon as I could.”
A sense of guilt washes over you. “The meeting--”
“Things like that can be postponed. Other things, however…”
“I should be sorry instead. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”
He plays with the ends of your hair. “Don’t be. We’re a couple; you’re allowed to get angry. I just wished you’d tell me why.”
“No, I shouldn’t be angry because of this, especially when I’m the one who said it’s okay before,” you object to his shirt, unable to look up at him.
“Okay for what?” he questions.
“For you to…” To look at other women, you want to finish, but you stop yourself. This is stupid. This is ridiculous. You shouldn’t have gotten so emotional. This isn’t like your carefully calculated self. Why are you so off today? “Secretary So!” you blurt the first thing that comes to mind to distract yourself from your thoughts. “She’s pretty, isn’t she? You made a good choice, Jisung.”
You can imagine him raising his brow. “Secretary So? What about her?”
“N-nothing. She’s just really, really beautiful.”
He sits up in alarm and rising anger. “Did she do something to you when you came in?”
You have no choice but to sit up with him. “No. No, she didn’t; she was just…”
“Just?” he prompts.
“Just absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous and exquisite and alluring and… and…”
He just sits there, waiting for you to spill out what you actually mean.
“... and flirty.”
Jisung looks surprised at your conclusion. Does he really not know?
“It’s nothing,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Like I said, it’s not my position to be--”
“Jealous?” he finishes for you. This time, it’s your turn to look up in shock. Jealous? You? Every time there is something you want, you’d work to obtain it; there is never time to be jealous. Like that restaurant franchise from last year, for example. If you had wasted time being jealous then, the Japanese competitors would have--
His smile breaks your chain of thoughts.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because if you are jealous, that’ll mean I’ve become something you don’t want to lose,” he answers.
“I’m not--!”
He lets out a hum. “Really? Then let’s put it to the test. If this makes you feel better, then it means you’re jealous, okay?” He swings one leg behind you to minimize barriers between you two. He then brushes your hair behind your ear with a mischievous smile. “Y/N, I have never seen a thing on this planet that’s as beautiful and gorgeous as you. And it’s your right to be jealous, but you don’t have to be because I am wholly and fully yours, alright? I’ve told you this before, but I’ll say it again: arranged or otherwise, you are and always will be the only one in my heart.”
He presses a short kiss on your head, one that makes you squeak and him giggle, knowing he’s won. “And I never even noticed Secretary So flirting or how she looked because I’m always thinking about you.”
You snort at his cheesy line. “Jisung-ah, that’s a little too much, don’t you think?”
Your lighter mood makes him smile. “What? It’s true.”
“Now you’re the one flirting,” you say after squeaking at another peck on the head.
“Hmm,” he hums, hunting for another spot on your face. “I’m allowed to; I’m your husband.”
You yelp this time when he dives in for your cheek. Then your nose. Then your temple. Your protests die down as the time his lips spend lingering on your face grow longer and longer.
“Tell me…” he gasps after pulling away from one of them. “... if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
You shake your head slightly, and he pulls you in to kiss your jaw. It’s slow and makes you feel tingly all over. You can differentiate each and every square millimeter of his lips as they press on and pull away from your skin. He then rests his forehead against yours, hesitating more than ever with his focus locked on one thing. He then tilts closer and closer, breathing heavily.
Your fingers curl around the sheets as you wait. At some point, you might have even tilt your own chin just a degree upwards to help him until--
A loud growl echoes through the room. The interruption makes you quickly turn away and clear your throat.
“D-did you eat?” you cough, feeling dizzy.
“No,” he answers disappointedly. “I came as soon as I could.”
“I’ll make something,” you tell him as you stick your feet into slippers and make your way out of the room without turning back to look at him. Perhaps if you did though, you’d see him dropping his head into his arms and sighing into his lap.
A few months later, you waved goodbye to Jisung at the airport as he headed for a conference in France. He had been made vice chairman of his company the moment you two were married, so this is the first real opportunity he gets to prove his worthiness of the position.
Information wise, he is more than prepared, at least from what you can tell from the hundred times he recited his presentation to you or the bathroom mirror. Still, you can’t help but fidget restlessly with the pen in your hand as you sit at your office desk, futilely reading the document in front of you for the fourth time. Will he be alright alone amidst all those new people who barely even speak the same language? Even his secretary, a new hire after that night, can barely be considered someone he’s close with.
“Director Han?” Your own secretary walks in with your morning tea. When you don’t acknowledge her, she knows something is off. “Director Han?” she calls again, louder.
This time, you snap out of your thoughts and look at her.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” you clear your throat.
She shrugs as she places the tray on your desk. “It’s just that you’ve been looking up plane tickets to Paris for the past hour.”
Your eyes flicker to your computer and realize that she is completely correct. Maybe that’s why you haven’t been concentrating on your work.
“This is-- I, um-- This--”
Your secretary just smiles at your flusteredness and stands up straight. “Director?”
“Hm?”
“Just go.”
You turn your head. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, to France. You’re worried, aren’t you? Then go make sure he’s alright yourself.”
“But I--” the document crinkles under your grip. You look at it then at her. Then you turn to the display on your screen. At last, you propel your chair away from your bottom and grab your purse. With a firm nod to your secretary, you fly out of the room.
As your captain announces preparations for landing, you check your watch anxiously. Jisung’s presentation will start in less than an hour, you realize. When the aircraft lands, you fly out of that too with your legs aching from being squished into an economy seat, the earliest seat available to France, for the past ten hours.
You hail a cab and throw whatever French you learned on your flight at him and pray that he takes you to the right hotel. Once you arrive, you dash up through the front door, up the grand staircase, and finally to the great double doors that stand between you and Jisung’s presentation. You can feel your feet bleeding in your heels and your lungs screaming for oxygen, but you can care less. You’ve made it. You’ve finally made it.
Inside, you can hear Jisung already giving his speech. He’s on slide six of the powerpoint, if you aren’t mistaken. You ask the doorman to give you a minute to make yourself a little more presentable as Han Jisung’s wife when you hear the microphone inside crack. There’s a slight murmur, but nothing more. It’s not a huge deal, honestly, but you know what it can do to a presenter, especially when the stakes are so high. As expected, you hear Jisung stutter his next sentence, and your heart sinks.
“Open the door, please,” you tell the staff, and he does as told with a bow, thankfully recognizing you from one news article or another.
Inside, you see Jisung on the stage looking more flushed than usual with his shoulders a little hunched forward. Your entrance catches his attention though, and his eyes dart over to you. Almost immediately, you see his features soften. You stand there, by the door, and flash him a smile and a reassuring nod. Without missing a beat in his speech, he sends a tiny nod back and corrects his posture, continuing with newfound confidence.
An eternity later, it is finally all over. There were a few difficult questions, but Jisung did not let them faze him by keeping you in his peripherals at all times. You do your part by supporting him with little gestures the whole time. In the end, the buyers seem extremely satisfied with him and his company and greet him with handshakes and kisses as he descends the stage.
At last, he fights his way through the crowd to you. The first thing he does when he makes it is grab your wrists and pull you into a hug, and you are glad you are in France.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, clearly pleased.
“I thought you might appreciate it,” you strangle the words out from how tight he is holding you.
“I do. I really, really do,” he whispers before pulling away. There is a wide grin on his face as he looks at you. “Can you stay though? There’s a banquet tonight, and I’ll love for you to be there.”
You match his joyous demeanor. “Well, I didn’t have time to buy a return ticket yet, so…”
“Great! My goodness, I still can’t believe you’re here though,” he breathes. “How did I do?”
“Amazing, of course,” you answer easily.
That night, you meet all of Jisung’s French business partners. “Vous êtes belle,” they all compliment every time Jisung introduces you, and your husband would puff out his chest a bit and agree. You then have to remind him that he is here to glorify his company, not you, and he’d chuckle shyly before getting back on topic.
At some point in the night, you excuse yourself to touch up your makeup. In the restroom, you find a couple of other ladies doing the same.
“Oh, the Han Group’s lady!” they giggle.
“How are you?” you greet back.
“Oh, just wonderful,” replies one of them. “You must be so lucky to be married to your husband. He’s so successful and well-mannered!”
“Yes,” you smile politely. “Yes, I am.”
“And so handsome,” adds another.
“You should be careful. Men like that are always swarmed with women.”
“Yes, yes,” agrees the first one. “That’s what happened to my first husband. I’m a lot more careful now.”
“We don’t mean to be rude, but we should warn young ladies like you so you don’t go down the same road some of us did. If you aren’t careful, he could be snatched right out of your hands.”
You look at your reflection. The bags under your eyes are the only part of your face that isn’t sunken in from your long flight here. What is even the time in Korea? Your thin lips tell you even a good night’s rest isn’t going to help much though.
“Yeah… I suppose he could…”
The other women seem to read your change in expression and offer their apologies. You brush them off and quickly finish what you came in for. In just a few minutes, you are out of the room.
Outside, Jisung surprises you by standing there, one foot propped against the wall behind him and arms crossed.
“Jisung?”
He snaps his head towards you and grabs your wrist. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Now? What about the banquet?” You turn around. Everyone looks happy, so you hope there haven’t been any mishaps with the business.
“I said we’re leaving,” he bites out.
Alarmed, you follow him silently until his quick pace makes you press against one of the blisters in your heel a little too hard, so you seethe in pain. He turns around and notices what is wrong instantly. He lets out a quiet curse before picking you up and making the rest of the way to his destination.
Turns out, that destination happens to be his suite. Is he tired, you wonder. No, probably not. Not by the way he’s looking at you after sitting you on the foot of the bed.
“Ji--”
“How could you say that?” he demands.
“W-what do you mean?” You’ve never seen him like this.
“That I can be snatched up by other women just like that? Y/N, how many times do I have to keep telling you that there’s never going to be someone else but you?”
“You heard that?” you squeak meekly.
He ignores you. “I know how you say it’s fine with you and that you don’t believe in love, but have you ever thought about how much it hurts me when you talk like that? Like, like everything we did together and all the feelings I poured out for you don’t matter. And then you go and do something insane like, I don’t know, flying across a continent to cheer me on, and I think that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way I do, but then you go ahead and break my heart with one single sentence!”
You look at him, eyes wide and speechless. He drops his head and lowers his voice.
“Just tell it to me straight, Y/N. Am I just a business operation to you, or am I something more?”
He waits for your response in the dark stillness for a few minutes, but no matter how hard you try, you just can’t find an answer for him. Your mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out.
Finally, he sighs and gives up. He begins walking to the door, but just as he touches the handle, you grab his arm, making him turn around.
Your head is down this time as you stutter out. “I-I… I can’t tell you how I feel about you because I don’t know what to label this feeling myself, b-but I do know that if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it like I’ve never regretted anything before. All I can say at this m-moment is that you’re someone who can make me l-laugh and smile. And--” You lift your face up as tears stream from your eyes, smudging your makeup and contorting your face into something you are ashamed of. “--you are someone whom I’ve allowed to make me cry.”
You have seldom cried before-- not when you blew a huge assignment, and not when your parents announced your marriage. Be strong, you have been told. Hold people at a distance or you’ll be the one to lose in the end. People in your position have so much to lose, it’s been drilled into you to not let others have this kind of control over your emotions. As such, this is a new experience for you. Then again, you realize, all Jisung has been making you feel these past few months are things you’ve never felt before like jealousy, nervousness, warmth, and most importantly…
He cups your face with his hands and swipes away your tears with his thumb. Slowly, you let yourself close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can tell by the way the Paris lights grow dimmer and dimmer through your eyelids that he is leaning closer and closer, but you don’t fight it one bit. Not this time. Not when he’s taught you the most important thing of all…
… trust.
The fountain outside activates the second his lips touch yours, but you can care less about elaborate water displays. No, all you can care about right now is how he is filling you with the one emotion you thought you’d never experience.
“Y/N…” he whispers when he pulls away. “I know you’re very confused right now, but I want to make one thing clear.” Your heart quickens more if that is even possible.
“I love you,” you blurt.
Jisung blinks at you twice. “I-- Y-you-- What?”
You want nothing more than to hide in the blankets right now, but you force yourself to look into his eyes as you say, “You’re right; I was confused before, but being with you, feeling your touch, and hearing your voice, things… things started becoming clear, and in that clarity, I realized that I love you. I really do. And I’m sorry for not realizing it before and for saying all those--”
He cuts you off with another kiss. When you part this time, you see that all anger and hesitation on his face have been replaced by elation.
“You idiot,” he laughs. “I was supposed to say it first!”
“O-oh really? I didn’t kn--”
He cuts you off again, this time with a shake of his head and a finger on your lips. From his pocket, he pulls out a little velvet box and guides you on to the balcony that’s lit with candles and dusted with flower petals for the perfect French ambiance.
“Jisung, what are you doing?”
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he answers. “I know we’re already married, but that was our parents’ decision, not ours. So tonight, I want to ask if you, Miss L/N Y/N, would marry me?”
He gets down onto one knee and opens the box. Immediately, your hands fly up to your mouth.
“I-it’s the ring… from the mall… on the day that--”
“On the day that I realized I was in love with you,” he finishes. “The day I realized I would not have married anyone else but you even if things were different. So, what do you say?” he continues, tilting his head to one side. “Will you make me the happiest man alive?”
You don’t realize you are crying again or the fireworks that join the water display to light up this magical night. The only thing on your mind is one word:
“Yes!”
~ ad.gold
A/N: lol, no one comment on how flat i made the man’s thumb plz :P @chimmy-unnie: see, its not “fifty shades of stray” when its in context ^w^
