❝ Faker❞
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THE CAR RIDE BACK TO HIS HOUSE WAS silent, it was good for me since I liked being in silence, not worrying about people judging my talks and gossiping behind my back was something enjoyable. Even though I kept glancing at the man beside me, I didn't want him to talk or complain about me looking at him.

The car halted to a stop, I watched as the large doors opened, my eyes excitedly roaming around his house, I bit my lips—this was too much. I didn't deserve this much luxury, so much lights, such a beautiful mansion. For a poor woman like me, it was a shame to even look at it.

I turned to my side to see Jungkook already taking his seatbelt off, without even looking at me—he got off. I quickly fiddled with the seatbelt, and took it out with difficulty. Perhaps I pressed the lock too hard to hurt my hand, but it didn't really hurt me. I quietly followed him in.

I watched in silence as he pressed the passcode to his house, I didn't really get the puzzling password he kept—and it wasn't a big deal too. The doors automatically opened with a mechanical sound of being unlocked, and again, he walked in, I followed him in, turning to see the door automatically close—with another mechanic voice.

The house was huge, I noticed the huge chandelier hanging above my head, the living was too big, my heart was beating fast for some unknown reason.

Being aware of me being behind him, Jungkook turned, his face as blank as a white canvas. "This is your new home." He said—smirking. My mind became confused at his sinister smirk, chills running down my spine at his evil gaze, I was aware of him being a devil, and yet it didn't affect me.

But no. I won't let this beauty take over my mind, I won't let this devil become my worst nightmare—I'll overcome all the struggles he gives me. "There is no extra room yet, so you'll have to stay with me, in my room." He said, grinning.

I tilted my head, looking around the mansion. Such a big house, yet no extra room ready? That's no not Jeon. I thought, ever since I first met him, I noticed how he loved perfection, but how come he failed to make this scene imperfect? Or was it just his evil plan?

He stepped up, "Let's go." He said, holding onto my hand, I glanced down, feeling his cold hand against mine. His hands were much bigger than mine, I was short—very much short than him.

He pulled me forward, wrapping his arms around my shoulder tightly, I held my painful wince back by biting my lower lip, my heartbeart—once again—became fast, I was getting afraid of him, he's scary.

A smile was plastered on his face as he painfully dragged me with him, my hands were sweaty as I gripped the lower part of my wedding dress tightly. My eyes watched fearfully as the room arrived, the black wooden door haunting me, my eyes turned to him as he opened the door, pulling me in with him.

He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he watched me, I looked around, my eyes abruptly stopping at his face—he licked his lips. It was getting more scary second by second, he stepped forward, the same sly smile reaming on his face.

"So, did you enjoy the wedding?" He asked, using his right hand to take his tie off, before he threw it to the floor. My eyes fell on the tie, disappointment washing over my face—such a spoilt man.

My eyes confusedly turned to him, focusing on the asked question. "Huh?" I asked him, my brows deeply knotted together—enjoy? What's there to enjoy in a contract marriage for six months?—he kept grinning as he took his black suit jacket off, throwing it away, as it landed beside the silk black tie.

"Enjoy. Did you like the decorations and services?" He asked, taking another step forward as he stood right in front of me, shoving his hands into his pockets again—is it perhaps a habit?

"Uh. Oh yes, I did." I nodded my head at him, not understnading the purpose of his question, it wasn't even important if I liked anything, I was just a bride.

He hummed, his eyes moving down to my wedding dress, I stiffened in awkwardness, "A-Aren't you tired?" You asked him, he averted his eyes from my body to my eyes, grinning. "Not at all, are you?" He asked, knitting his brows together.

His worry seemed utterly fake. He was faking love and care for me, and I didn't like it—but again—it didn't matter to him, nor me. My decisions never really mattered. "No." I muttered, looking down at the floor.

I suddenly felt small, he was such a rich, handsome and infamous business man, while I was poor, ugly and useless, his fate seemed so cruel to him—that he had to marry me.

Maybe he noticed my sadness, so he took another step forward, closing the small gap between us—helplessly—I stepped back, stopping when I realised that there was a wall right behind me, his grin was still there, he was evil.

He took another step, his arms on each side of the wall as he eyed me—was that lust?—in his eyes, I could see the lust, he shouldn't have it for me though, I'm not worth it.

He tilted his head to a side, looking at my helpless and scared expression, "Then? What do you want to do to pass time?" He asked, I looked up at him, raising my brows in surprise—is he serious?—his words were pointless, what was he even talking about—

My eyes went wide when his right hand abruptly moved to my waist, as he pulled me closer, I closed my eyes, my feet staggering as they made a loud click when I stumbled towards him, my head landed on his chest when I mistakenly twisted my feet—wincing, my eyes closed even tighter in pain.

He chuckled dryly, using his other hand to grab my cheek as he forced me to look up—he kissed me. My eyes opened, my heart fluttering. What is wrong with him?—I quickly reached up to push him away, but his grip around my cheek tighened, making my hands fall back down.

He moved forward, pushing me against the wall with a loud thud. My eyes looked around, filled with fear—tears?—I felt tears fill in my eyes, was it fear?—or anger—I felt dumb for acting weak, I wasn't so weak, so what happened to me?

I groaned, tears falling down my eyes as I tried to push him away, he moved down to my arms, holding them tightly, as he pulled away.

I stared at him with fear and tears, my breath hitching when he wiped his lips—he played, you idiot.—a voice said somewhere in my head, I felt my heart sink, I fell for his trap? It was fake?

He smirked, "Why are you crying?" His voice not at all sounded worried, he rather enjoyed my pain and sadness, he grinned. "Don't cry, you'll see these things many times, honey." He said, patting my cheek.

He's a faker. His love is faker.