The hall of reception glittered like a fable come true, a hum of polite conversation pierced through with the intermittent clinking of glasses. Above them, the chandeliers glinted, their crystals seemingly polished to perfection each. Yet, with all this glisten of opulence, you felt like an outsider in your life.

You entered the room on Taehyung's arm, his grip light yet firm, like he escorted a stranger. The guests were applauding around you, smiling wide and in approval.

"Smile," Taehyung said, very softly, so low that only you could hear him.

You pressed your lips into a delicate arc, ignoring the sting of bitterness in his tone. Your heart was racing, not because of excitement but from the stress of holding it together. Each step you had made into that room was one of submission-a reminder that this was not your day. It was a performance, and you played the lead in a story not yours to tell.

The clinking of glasses grabbed your attention as Taehyung led you to the middle of the room. The emcee announced the first dance, his voice booming over the soft melody that had started playing.

"now, we invite the bride and groom to share their first dance as husband and wife."

The room quieted into a dead silence, all eyes on the two of you. Taehyung turned towards you, his expression unreadable. For a second, you would swear he'd heard your heartbeat pound inside your chest.

"Shall we?" he asked, no hint of friendliness.

You nodded, not even trusting your voice. He extended a hand and you set yours in his with just a hint of hesitation. His palm was cool against your own, his fingers curling over yours just tightly enough to guide. As he guided you onto the floor, the swell of music lifted and the room faded into some blur of faceless faces and lights.

Taehyung's hand had come to rest on your waist, his hold firm but impersonal. The other held yours in a practiced pose, his movements as exacting as they were detached.

"You're stiff," he said low, his tone laced with irritability.

"I'm nervous," you whispered back.

"Don't be," he replied flatly. "It's just a dance. Pretend if you have to.

You looked up at him, his sharp features bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier above. His face was relaxed, almost serene, but his eyes cold and detached. You wondered whether anyone else in this room was as privy as you were-to know this moment of perfection had been painstakingly contrived and rehashed for verisimilitude, not instinct.

Of course, the audience saw none of it. You were a vision of poise and grace to them, moving in one easy glide across the dance floor with your new husband. They didn't hear the low, cutting things he kept whispering, and neither could they sense the tightening in your chest with each step.

"You'll have to get used to this," he said as the music started to die. "Pretending.".

Those words cut deeper than you cared to admit, but you kept your face neutral, determined not to let him see how much those words truly hurt.

When the dance finally came to an end, the room erupted in applause. Taehyung released you almost immediately, his face lit up with a perfect smile toward the crowd. A quick, polite bow came next-a nod to cheers and congratulations-before he stepped aside and let the celebration continue.

The rest of the evening blurred together in forced politeness and nameless, formless introductions. It seemed like there was a stream of people coming towards you one after another, congratulating and telling you some story or another about Taehyung's family.

"You must be so thrilled," one gushing woman said, all sparkling eyes with enthusiasm. "Taehyung is quite the catch."

"Yes," you said with a tight smile. "I'm very fortunate.

You knew they were bitter words, but you swallowed them down all the same because there was nothing left to say.

Taehyung played his part to the letter: charming the guests with an easy smile and quick wit, commanding attention with every step he took. But every time your paths crossed, his demeanor changed, his gaze hardened ever so slightly as if to remind you of your place.

You were once standing alone near the edge of the room, watching as Taehyung laughed at something one of his relatives had said; he was so easy, so confidently effortless, you would never have believed he was the same man who had sneered at you only hours before.

For a moment, part of you remained to wonder what it would have been like to actually know him-to see this Taehyung everybody else seemed so in love with. The thought didn't tarry, though, soon chased away by the cold reality of your situation.

And as the evening drew to a close, you were absolutely exhausted: the weight of your dress, the ache in your feet, and the eternal pressure of putting up appearances weighing you down.

You went back to the bridal suite, grateful to be finally alone for at least some time, changing out of your gown into simpler evening attire. The door creaked behind you as you slid from the dress into much simpler evening attire.

Taehyung was standing in the doorway, his tie slackened and a mask on his face.

"You played your part well," he said with a tinge of mockery.

You huffed in an angry turn and faced him. The fists by the sides clench. "I had no option."

A spasm seized on his lips-a joyless curve. "Of course not, you never do."

Some heavy silence trailed between the two; after a momentary pause, Taehyung turned his heels, setting each movement brisk and ready.

"Get ready," he said over his shoulder, "we shall leave soon."

Behind him, the door softly closed, leaving you to yourself in that quiet room. You stared back at the space where he had been, your chest tight with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

This was your new reality. And this is what you had to bear.