At the Baeksang Arts Awards, under the blinding cascade of flashbulbs he was the definition of grace. He stood with his arm draped protectively around your waist with his signature boxy smile. When the reporters asked him the secret to his consecutive acting daesangs, he looked down at you, his eyes softening into a gaze so filled with adoration that a collective sigh rippled through the crowd.
"My wife," he murmured into the microphone. "She is my anchor. Everything I build, I build for her."
You smiled on cue, leaning into his side. You had practiced the exact pose in the mirror for three hours the night before. You knew precisely how much pressure to apply to his arm to signal your devotion.
But as his hand tightened against your ribs just a fraction too hard, a silent warning to keep your posture perfect you knew to lean and kiss him, so softly, so full of love.
The heavy iron gates of your secluded villa closed behind the town car, shutting out the rest of the world. Inside the vehicle, the silence was immediate and suffocating.
Taehyung didn't look at you. He unbuttoned his designer suit jacket, his movements slow, deliberate, and mesmerizingly elegant. The warm, doting husband from the red carpet vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness.
"You spoke to Min-jae tonight," he said. His tone was conversational, almost light, but it made your stomach drop.
"He came over to congratulate us. I only said thank you." Your voice was barely a whisper. You tried to keep it steady. You knew the rules.
He tilted his head, finally turning his eyes toward you. In the dim light of the passing streetlamps, he looked like a masterpiece carved from marble perfect, flawless, and entirely devoid of warmth.
"A simple 'thank you' doesn't require you to look into a man's eyes for five seconds, darling. We've discussed this. It makes you look desperate. It makes us look weak."
"I'm sorry," you breathed, the familiar script slipping from your tongue. "I didn't mean to."
"And yet, you did." He reached out, his long, elegant fingers tracing your jawline his touch soft yet you can feel the warning of it. "I work myself to the bone to give you this life. To protect you. And you repay me by acting careless."
When you entered the house, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The villa was a minimalist masterpiece and entirely designed by him. Every piece of furniture, every painting, even the clothes in your closet were chosen by Taehyung.
You walked toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.
"Where is your black card, Y/N?"
You froze, turning slowly. He was standing by the marble island, loosening his silk tie.
"I... I have it in my clutch," you muttered.
"I saw the bank alerts today. You purchased a flight ticket to visit your mother next month. Without asking me."
"It's her sixty-fifth birthday, Taehyung," you pleaded softly, stepping closer, desperately searching his face for a flicker of the man who used to love you before the fame and the obsession consumed him. "I haven't seen her in a year. I used my own allowance—"
"Your allowance is my money," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. He walked over to you, his footsteps silent on the hardwood. He took your clutch from your hands, opened it, and slid the black card out, placing it in his breast pocket. "You clearly aren't mature enough to manage your finances if you're making impulsive decisions. You will stay here and I will send your mother a bouquet. That is more than enough."
"Please," a tear slipped down your cheek. "Don't do this. I just want to see my family."
Taehyung’s expression didn't change, but a shadow of profound disappointment crossed his eyes. He hated when things weren't perfect. He hated when you cried. To him, your tears were a betrayal of the paradise he had built for you.
He stepped closer his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He didn't strike you, he rarely resorted to physical violence knowing it left marks that the public might see, but he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up with a grip of iron.
"Look at me," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. "Who feeds you? Who clothes you? Who shields you from a world that would tear you apart in a second? I do. You are mine, Y/N. Your time, your body, your thoughts they belong to me. When you question my decisions, it tells me you don't love me."
"I do love you," you choked out, trapped in the terrifying paradox of your existence. You feared him, yet you were entirely dependent on him. He had systematically cut off your friends, your family, and your financial independence until he was the only gravity left in your universe.
"Then prove it," he murmured, his thumb brushing the tear from your cheek with a sudden, agonizing tenderness that made your heart ache. "Go upstairs. Wash your face. Put on the white silk dress I bought you, and wait for me in the bedroom. No more tears. No more mistakes."
He let go of your chin, patted your cheek gently, and gave you a small, beautiful smile—the very same smile that graced the covers of a hundred magazines.
"We are going to be perfect tomorrow, aren't we, sweetheart?"
I'm so incredibly proud of BTS for their win at the BBMAS. They've worked so hard and they deserve this so much, I love them so much. Like I'm literally still sobbing. They all looked so happy and proud too, I love my babies more than anything.😭😍❤❤❤ Proud A.R.M.Y. Forever🌸 Sidenote: MY BOYS WERE FUCKING GLOWING TONIGHT AND OH MY GOD THAT GORGEOUS NATURAL SKIN, THAT'S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE, I FELL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN. THANK YOU 2017 BBMAS🙏🏻😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥
