The morning of your wedding was bathed in artificial perfection: the grand hall, shining in ivory and gold tones under a soft, glittering light that spilled from an opulent chandelier; the air thick with the scent of freshly cut roses and lavender. Yet, this did nothing to ease the tightening knot of dread in your chest.

You sat in the bridal suite, staring blankly at your reflection. The long white gown fit your figure to perfection, every minute detail carefully thought out to make you just like the perfect bride. Your hair cascaded down your back in an intricate tumble of jet-black waves, framing your face like a work of art. But no matter how great you looked on the outside, you just could not block out that little voice in your head that whispered, This isn't real. This isn't happiness.

Your mother's biting voice still rang fresh in your ears from last night's call.

"Don't even think about ruining this, Y/n," she had hissed, venom dripping from every word. "We've sacrificed too much for you to be selfish now."

You squeezed your hands tight in your lap, trying to suppress the shake in your fingers. This wasn't a day for emotions. Not for you, at least.

A gentle knock, and the door creaked open. The wedding coordinator poked her head in with a polite but urgent smile.

"It's time, Mrs. Kim."

Mrs. Kim. The title hit you like a slap, a label that didn't feel like yours yet. You stood on unsteady legs, smoothing the delicate fabric of your dress as you followed her down the long corridor toward the main hall.

Every step felt heavier than the last. The sound of classical music swelled as the huge oak doors opened before you, revealing the grand, glittering venue.

The guests stood, beaming bright, wide, and smiling approval, with gasps of admiration turned to you. You walked down the aisle; every pair of eyes was set on you, their silent judgments weighing in your mind, one by one. Your parents sat proudly at the front row, yet so empty it was a matter of another successfully closed business deal.

But none compared to the weight of his gaze.

Kim Taehyung stood at the altar, resplendent in his fitted black tuxedo. Sharp features, striking presence-things that could command any room-but his eyes, those cold, unreadable eyes, were fixed on you with only thinly veiled disdain.

As you reached his side, the orchestra's music faded, and your heart thudded so loudly that he just about might hear it.

Taehyung didn't extend a hand or utter a word. He only stood rigid, hard as marble. You wanted to disappear into the smothering tension that wrapped around you, finding no ventilation.

"Let's get it over with," he growled low.

You swallowed that lump which threatened to rise to block up your throat and faced the officiant.

The words droned on at the ceremony, all melting into a buzz in your ears, until you could feel the reassuring wall that was Taehyung by your side-a cold indifference that somehow managed to ache in your heart. This was because of reasons unknowingly buried deep inside of you.

"You may now exchange your vows," the officiant declared, his voice booming through the grand hall.

Taehyung was the first to arrive. Drawing a folded neat paper from the pocket, unfolding it with millimetric and mechanical precision.

His tone was flat even in tone and deep, but the words coming out from his lips contained no emotion. He spoke about duty, union, and the honor of a family, placing each word and phrase to show a union of perfection-no words of love or partnership there.

You couldn't stop the sting of tears welling in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you forced yourself to focus on the paper in your shaking hands.

When it came time for you, your voice shook as you read the vows you'd written. They were heartfelt, raw, and filled with a small, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be as empty as it seemed.

But when you looked up, Taehyung's expression was blank, like your words were ambient noise.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said coolly, sliding the band onto your finger. His touch was fleeting, almost clinical, and the chill of his indifference crept into your bones.

You echoed the motion, placing the ring onto his finger, your hands trembling.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," he said.

The applause that exploded from the audience was deafening, but it felt hollow to you. Taehyung turned toward the crowd with a picture-perfect smile, his hand lightly clasping yours.

But when his gaze shifted back to you, his eyes turned icy once more.

"Smile," he whispered sharply, his lips barely moving. "They're watching."

You listened, gluing a grin on for cameras and a dozen or so nosy eyes as your heart knotted uncomfortably in your chest.

The claps died away finally, and according to the officiant, the reception was underway. Taehyung leaned into you; the warm breath dancing with your ear as he whispered something in his most venomous tone that shivered your spine.

"Welcome to hell."

Your stomach dropped, and that smile that had been plastered on your lips faltered for a second before you regained composure.

You walked down the aisle arm in arm, the cheering of the crowd, while in your heart, you felt like a prisoner being marched to her cell.

The gilded doors shut them behind, shutting out the applause, and for the first time, you were truly alone with Taehyung as husband and wife.

He had let your arm go the very moment the crowd was out of sight, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked down at you with disdain.

"This doesn't mean anything," he said coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Don't get any ideas about us being happy."

You blinked up at him, your throat tightening with words you couldn't say. Instead, you nodded silently, the lump in your chest growing heavier.

He let a scoffing laugh out before turning on his heel and leaving you standing in the emptiness of the hallway.

You were reminded of your continuing role when the reception doors opened, spilling out the music inside, and you found yourself following behind him with a deep breath, gathering what little strength you had.

The show must go on.