I forced my brightest smile as guest after guest passed by, each offering empty congratulations that only deepened the hollow ache in my chest. Their voices blurred together, mixing with the soft, haunting strains of the string quartet playing somewhere in the background. Each "congratulations" felt like a nail sealing the coffin of my new life.

Taehyung held my hand firmly, his grip unyielding, a constant reminder of my lack of freedom. He looked calm, even bored, though his eyes sharpened whenever they flicked in my direction, making sure I didn’t slip up, didn’t show the slightest hint of my misery. His mask was flawless, and I hated him for it. He wore confidence like a second skin, while I struggled to keep my own mask from cracking.

“Smile,” he murmured quietly, his voice a low hum that only I could hear. “It’s what they expect.”

I gritted my teeth, my forced smile widening just a fraction as an older couple from the Kim family approached us. The woman, adorned in a pearl necklace that gleamed under the soft lights, looked me over with a critical eye, her smile a mere facade of politeness.

“A beautiful bride,” she said, her gaze drifting between Taehyung and me. “I can see why Taehyung chose you.”

Taehyung’s hand tightened around mine, a silent warning. I bit back the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue and simply nodded, murmuring, “Thank you.”

As they moved on, I caught a glimpse of Yoongi watching us from the edge of the crowd, his dark eyes narrowing slightly whenever Taehyung’s grip on my hand became too tight. He looked sharp in his suit, standing tall with that calm, almost stoic expression he always wore, though I could see the faint crease of worry in his brow. He was the only steady thing in this chaos, the one person who’d always been there to pull me back when I felt like drowning.

When the next wave of guests had moved on, I leaned closer to Taehyung, keeping my voice low. “How much longer do we have to do this?”

His lips twitched, barely a smile. “As long as it takes for them to believe we’re in love.”

I scoffed, unable to stop myself. “Love. Right. That’s what this is.” but from inside I know if we want to stop Yakuzas and Triads so I have to act in love so they don't attack Bratva's border.

He tilted his head, looking down at me with a glint of amusement—or maybe it was annoyance; with Taehyung, it was hard to tell. “They don’t care if it’s real. They just need to believe it. And so do you, if you want to survive this.”

The cold edge in his voice sent a chill down my spine, but I didn’t let it show. I’d learned long ago how to school my features, how to hide the turmoil raging inside me. “Survival,” I echoed softly, looking away. “That’s all this is, isn’t it?”

Taehyung’s eyes hardened, just for a second—a fleeting, barely perceptible moment of something close to empathy. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice as cold and unyielding as ever. “This is survival. And you’d do well to remember that, Miso.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat almost choking me. The weight of his words, of this entire night, bore down on me, threatening to crush me. I felt my control slipping, my facade beginning to crack, but I clenched my jaw and forced myself to hold it together. If this was survival, then I’d fight. I’d do whatever it took to endure this nightmare.

When the last of the guests had finally offered their congratulations and moved on, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. My legs ached, my head throbbed, and all I wanted was to escape, to find a quiet corner where I could breathe.

But Taehyung wasn’t done with me yet. He led me to the table at the front of the hall, his hand never leaving mine, a possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the guests. We were the center of attention, the stars of this twisted show, and he played his part flawlessly.

As we sat, Yoongi approached, carrying a glass of champagne, which he placed in front of me. His hand brushed mine, a fleeting touch that grounded me, reminding me that I wasn’t completely alone.

“Miso,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “Are you alright?”

I met his gaze, seeing the concern in his eyes. “I’ll manage,” I replied, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more, just gave a small nod before stepping back, his watchful gaze never straying far.

________________________

The chatter and laughter of the guests faded into a low hum as I sat at the table, trying to swallow down the nausea curling in my stomach. The smile I wore was an illusion, a fragile mask that I clung to with the last of my strength. Taehyung sat beside me, his presence suffocating, his hand resting possessively on the back of my chair. I felt trapped, caged under his watchful gaze and the weight of everyone's expectations.

As I reached for my glass, a woman I hadn't noticed before leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear. Her perfume was overwhelming, sickly sweet, and I could feel her smirk even without seeing it.

"I should warn you," she whispered, her voice laced with venomous amusement. "Taehyung's a beast in the bedroom, and hung like one too. It'll hurt when he takes you, and he won't care. He doesn't care about you or your silly emotions. He'll fuck you like an animal. He'll fuck you bloody."

Her words sliced through me like a blade, and I felt the color drain from my face. I didn't dare turn to look at her as she straightened, her laughter blending with the surrounding chatter before she sauntered off, disappearing into the crowd. I had no idea who she was, but the familiarity in her voice told me enough. She knew him-knew him in ways I could barely begin to fathom.

My hands shook as I set down my glass, my mind reeling with her words. Taehyung's hand found mine, his touch suddenly unbearable, and I flinched. He noticed, of course, his fingers tightening around mine in a subtle show of dominance. I steeled myself, forcing my gaze forward, refusing to meet his eyes.

He let out a soft, frustrated sigh, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "You can't ignore me forever, Miso. Especially not tonight, now that we're married." His tone was smug, dripping with the satisfaction of victory.

I said nothing, holding my composure by a thread. Every bone in my body screamed to run, to flee from his touch, from this place. But there was no f e. Not here, not now.

As we walked toward the tables under the garlands of flowers and lights, a sudden chant broke out among the guests. "Bacio, Bacio!" they shouted, the Italian word echoing through the room with boisterous enthusiasm. I glanced over and saw Beomgyu leading the charge, a mischievous grin on his face. My stomach churned with fresh hatred. If I hadn't despised him before, I certainly did now.

Taehyung's smirk returned, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes as he pulled me close, his hand possessive against the small of my back. I barely had a moment to brace myself before his lips claimed mine in a rough, demanding kiss. His hold was ironclad, his arm a cage around me, and I felt like a marionette, forced to play the part of the adoring bride while everyone watched.

My body stiffened, my hands clenching as I tried to keep myself from flinching. Taehyung's lips moved against mine, unrelenting, as if to prove a point. His kiss was possessive, a silent warning that I was his now, whether I liked it or not. When he finally released me, I felt as if I'd been branded, my lips tingling with the lingering taste of him.

The guests cheered and clapped, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside me. I sat down quickly, my hands clenched into fists under the table as I tried to compose myself.

The rest of our family joined us at the table, my parents settling down with forced smiles, and across from us sat Taehyung's family, including his father and that vile Beomgyu, who looked all too pleased with himself. I could feel the pressure mounting, a suffocating weight of eyes watching my every move, waiting for me to slip.

When everyone was finally seated, Beomgyu rose from his chair, clinking his knife against his glass to gather everyone's attention. The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to him with anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, old and new friends," he began, a mocking gleam in his eye as he looked between Taehyung and me. "We've come here today to celebrate the wedding of my brother Taehyung and his stunningly beautiful wife, Miso..."

My stomach clenched as he said my name, his tone dripping with feigned admiration. I forced a smile, though my face felt frozen, my heart pounding against my ribs. I felt Mo-eum's hand reach for mine under the table, her grip warm and steady, grounding me.

Beomgyu continued, his speech littered with inappropriate jokes that had the guests roaring with laughter. He spoke of Taehyung with a mix of fondness and condescension, a sly smile on his lips as he recalled memories of their youth, stories that painted Taehyung as a rebellious force of nature. Taehyung leaned back in his chair, his own lips curling in a smug half-smile, clearly entertained by Beomgyu's tales.

But there was a darkness in his gaze, a warning that Beomgyu seemed to ignore. I couldn't tell if Beomgyu was trying to humiliate him or simply relishing the attention, but the tension between them was palpable.

The laughter echoed around us, hollow and harsh in my ears. I sat there, numb, my appetite nonexistent as the plates of food were set before us. The only thing my stomach seemed content to digest was the fear twisting within me. I hadn't eaten anything since morning, yet I couldn't bring myself to even touch the food.

As Beomgyu's speech drew to a close, he lifted his glass in a final toast, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "To Taehyung and Miso," he said, casting me a look that felt far too knowing. "May their love burn as fiercely as Taehyung's temper." His smile widened, a cruel glint in his eye as he added, "And may Miso be the one to tame the beast."

A chorus of laughter followed, and I felt my cheeks burn, a flush of anger and embarrassment mixing with my dread. Taehyung's hand slipped over mine again, his fingers cold and unyielding, his eyes narrowed as he watched his brother with barely veiled contempt.

But when he looked at me, his expression was different-only for a heartbeat, a flicker so brief that I almost doubted it was real. Then, his mask was back in place, his fingers tightening around mine in a silent command to play my part.

"To survival," I whispered under my breath, lifting my glass in a toast that was meant only for myself.

_______________________

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading! This chapter dives into Miso's silent struggle and the suffocating world she's trapped in. The tension between her and Taehyung is just beginning, and there’s so much more to unravel. Stay tuned for what’s next, and let me know your thoughts!

Love,
lavendermiso <3