Jin ah pov:

I woke up, my body aching and my mind hazy. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city outside the window. I turned my head, trying to get my bearings, and that’s when I saw him.

Taehyung was sitting in the corner, a glass of wine in his hand. The shadows played across his face, highlighting the cold, unreadable expression he wore so well. He looked up, and our eyes met. For a moment, neither of us moved.

The events of the previous night came rushing back, and I felt a fresh wave of anger and helplessness wash over me. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much I hated him, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I sat up slowly, pulling the covers tighter around me.

"Why are you drinking?" I asked, my voice coming out hoarse and strained.

He took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving mine. "Does it matter?" he replied, his tone cold and detached.

I wanted to argue, to demand answers, but I wasn't in the mood. I felt too drained, too exhausted. So I said nothing, turning away from him.

"Go get freshened up. We're going out for dinner," he said, his voice commanding. "You must be hungry."

Without a word, I stood up and headed to the bathroom. Inside, I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection. My eyes were red and puffy from crying, my hair a tangled mess. I splashed some water on my face, trying to wash away the remnants of last night. When I felt somewhat more composed, I opened the door and stepped back into the room.

That's when I saw it. Laid out neatly on the bed was a dress—a beautiful, elegant evening gown in a deep shade of emerald green. It shimmered softly in the dim light, the fabric looking almost too delicate to touch. Beside it, there was a pair of Saint Laurent heels, their sleek black design contrasting sharply with the softness of the dress.

I hesitated, feeling a mix of emotions. The dress was stunning, but it felt like another chain binding me to him. I reached out to touch it, feeling the cool, smooth fabric under my fingers.

I changed quickly, the dress fitting like a glove, hugging my curves in all the right places. I slipped on the Saint Laurent heels, their elegant design adding a touch of sophistication to the ensemble. I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see the person I used to be, but all I saw was someone trapped.

When I finally stepped out, I found Taehyung waiting. He had changed as well, now wearing a sharp black suit that fit him perfectly. The suit accentuated his tall, lean frame, the dark fabric contrasting against his pale skin. His dark hair was styled neatly, his piercing eyes cold and unreadable.

His expression was unreadable as he took in my appearance. His gaze roamed over me, a flicker of something—approval, satisfaction, perhaps even possessiveness—crossing his face.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, Taehyung's intense gaze met mine, freezing me in place. He stood by the window, his tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the city lights. In his impeccably tailored black suit, he exuded an air of command and sophistication that was both intimidating and alluring. His dark eyes, cold and calculating, roved over me with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine.

Feeling the weight of his stare, I moved towards the mirror, intending to gather my thoughts and adjust my hair. Uncertainty flickered through me as I stared at my reflection, unsure how to style it. Before I could even begin, Taehyung's presence loomed behind me, a commanding force that made my breath catch.

Slowly, deliberately, he approached, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin as he lifted a necklace adorned with sparkling gems. The cool metal and the weight of the jewels sent a thrill through me, contrasting sharply with the heat that emanated from his touch.

"There," he breathed, his voice a low, dark whisper that reverberated through the room. "This belongs to you now."

I met his gaze in the mirror, seeing the possessive desire burning in his eyes. My reflection stared back at me, a silent witness to the turbulent emotions raging within—a mixture of defiance and resignation, attraction and fear.

Releasing me abruptly, he turned me towards him, his hand firmly on my waist, pulling me close in a gesture that brooked no argument. His touch was commanding yet strangely intimate, stirring a tumult of conflicting emotions within me.

Hesitating briefly, I felt the weight of his dominance pressing down on me like a suffocating cloak. But in the end, I knew there was no escape from the web he had woven around me.

In that moment, I realized that I and Taehyung were locked in a dangerous dance—one where power, desire, and the thin line between love and hate blurred into a tumultuous whirlwind that threatened to consume them both.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that filled the space between us.

I hesitated, my fingers nervously adjusting the fabric of my gown. "Um... my hair," I murmured softly, unsure how to articulate my need.

Understanding flickered across his face. Without a word, he closed the distance between us, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder as he turned me gently towards the mirror.

"Lemme help you with that," he offered quietly, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

His fingers wove through my hair with a practiced ease, each motion deliberate and precise. I studied his hands intently, noticing the strength in his fingers and the careful attention he paid to every detail. His touch was surprisingly gentle, yet each brush against my skin sparked a flurry of sensations.

As he worked, he glanced at me occasionally through the mirror, his eyes capturing mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks under his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and a strange thrill.

"There," he murmured eventually, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

As Taehyung stepped back to admire his handiwork, his gaze lingered on me with a intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

The soft light from the city outside cast a glow over his chiseled features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face and the depth of his dark eyes. There was a hunger in his gaze, a desire that seemed to burn beneath the surface of his controlled demeanor.

"You look exquisite," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a mixture of admiration and possessiveness.

I met his gaze in the mirror, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of his stare. His eyes traced the lines of my gown, lingering on the delicate curve of my neck where the necklace sparkled. Each glance felt like a caress, igniting a fire within me that I struggled to contain.

His fingers brushed against my shoulder lightly, a gesture both intimate and electrifying. I could sense the tension between us, thick and palpable, as if we stood on the edge of something profound and inevitable.

In that moment, time seemed to slow, the outside world fading into insignificance as we were caught in the magnetic pull of our shared desire.

"You're breathtaking," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if revealing a secret between us.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. The air around us crackled with unspoken words and unfulfilled longing, each glance and touch laden with unspoken meaning.

In the mirror's reflection, I saw him take a step closer, closing the space between us until our reflections blurred together. His hand rose to gently brush a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"You have no idea how captivating you are," he confessed softly, his breath mingling with mine.

I struggled to find my voice, caught in the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. His proximity, his gaze, his touch—it all ignited a firestorm of conflicting emotions within me.

Yet, beneath the uncertainty and the undeniable attraction, there was a magnetic pull drawing us closer, daring us to explore what lay beyond the surface.

In that suspended moment, with his gaze locked onto mine and our reflections merging in the mirror.

As the silence stretched between us, charged with unspoken promises and uncharted territory, I knew that this moment would linger in my memory long after the night had faded into dawn.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, a touch that was both reassuring and unsettling. I glanced down at the gown that hugged my curves in a way I had never expected, the fabric smooth against my skin. The necklace, with its delicate chain and sparkling gems, felt like a weight around my neck—a symbol of opulence and allure that seemed foreign and out of place.

In that moment, I felt a rush of thoughts flood my mind. This wasn't me—this world of luxury, of being adorned in jewels and elegant gowns. I had never imagined myself in such a scenario, never anticipated feeling both captivated and conflicted by Taehyung's presence.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The unfamiliarity of it all unsettled me, stirring a mix of awe and discomfort. This wasn't just about the clothes or the jewelry—it was about the world they represented, one of power and privilege that I had only glimpsed from afar.

As I met Taehyung's gaze in the mirror once more, I realized with a pang of clarity that this night was more than just a glamorous facade. It was a crossroads, where the allure of something new and enticing collided with the reality of who I was and where I came from.

As Taehyung's intense gaze held mine in the mirror, a wave of conflicting emotions swept through me. His words of admiration hung in the air, mingling with the tension that crackled between us. The soft glow of city lights cast a surreal ambiance around us, highlighting the contrast between his commanding presence and my own uncertainty.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, a touch that was both reassuring and unsettling. I glanced down at the gown that hugged my curves in a way I had never expected, the fabric smooth against my skin. The necklace, with its delicate chain and sparkling gems, felt like a weight around my neck—a symbol of opulence and allure that seemed foreign and out of place.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Taehyung's voice broke through the silence. "Let's go. You must be hungry," he said, his tone gentle yet commanding.

His words startled me, pulling me back from the tumult of my thoughts. Hungry. The simple reminder grounded me in reality, reminding me of the practicalities amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

I nodded slowly, torn between the allure of the unknown that Taehyung represented and the comfort of familiarity I had always cherished.

As we turned to leave the luxurious hotel room, adorned with elegant furnishings and a breathtaking view of the city lights, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension for the journey ahead.

The honeymoon suite, with its opulent decor and lavish amenities, was a stark contrast to the simplicity I had known.

Taehyung's presence beside me, his hand warm against mine as we walked down the corridor, symbolized a new chapter—one filled with uncertainties and unexpected discoveries.

Together, we stepped out into the corridor, the soft carpet underfoot muffling our footsteps as we headed towards the hotel's dining area.

The night was young, and as we navigated through the dimly lit corridors, I knew that this journey—our honeymoon—would be a transformative experience, where every moment would unravel a new facet of our intertwined destinies.

As Taehyung and I entered the exclusive dining area of the hotel, the opulent surroundings bespoke luxury and seclusion. The dim lighting, soft jazz music, and plush velvet booths created an intimate atmosphere that would normally be romantic, but tonight felt suffocatingly tense.

Taehyung guided me to our secluded table with a possessive grip on my arm, his touch sending a chill down my spine. His eyes, normally intense with desire, now held a chilling detachment that unsettled me. The waiter approached cautiously, offering us menus, but Taehyung waved him away with a terse nod, his attention fixed solely on me.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" I demanded, my voice low but edged with frustration.

Taehyung's lips curved into a cold smile, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "Nothing happened,My love," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone.

I bristled at his denial. "Don't play games," I retorted, my tone sharper than intended but fueled by a mix of anger and fear. "You can't pretend everything is normal after what you did."

He leaned back slightly, studying me with a calculating gaze. "You're my wife now," he stated firmly, as if that fact alone should erase all doubts and objections.

The emptiness of the dining area around us echoed with the weight of his words. The exclusivity he sought only intensified the isolation I felt—a stark reminder of the power imbalance in our relationship. This was not a honeymoon; it was a test of wills, a battleground where his obsession clashed with my resistance.

I clenched my fists under the table, fighting to keep my composure. The lavish surroundings, meant to impress and enchant, now felt like a gilded prison. Each moment with Taehyung was a reminder of the vows forced upon me, the expectations I never consented to.

As we sat in the strained silence, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on Taehyung's inscrutable face, I wrestled with conflicting emotions—fear and defiance, resignation and a stubborn desire for independence. This night, meant to be a celebration of our union, had become a battleground of emotions, where every glance and word carried weight.

In the hushed intimacy of the empty dining area, I realized with a sinking certainty that my life with Taehyung would be anything but ordinary. It would be a constant negotiation of boundaries and desires, a delicate dance where every step could lead to either submission or rebellion.

In that moment, under Taehyung's watchful gaze and the suffocating luxury of our private sanctuary, I knew that the honeymoon was over before it had even begun.

The tension in the air thickened as our dinner arrived, brought by a discreet waiter who placed the meticulously prepared dishes before us with a quiet reverence. The aroma of seared steak and roasted vegetables mingled with the faint scent of herbs, tempting yet unable to dispel the palpable unease between us.

Taehyung's demeanor remained composed as he meticulously cut into his own meal, his movements deliberate and controlled. Without breaking his focus, he deftly sliced a piece of tender meat from his plate and transferred it onto mine, a gesture that was both courteous and possessive.

"Enjoy," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving mine as he exchanged our plates.

I swallowed hard, torn between the conflicting currents of gratitude and resentment. His actions, though seemingly considerate, carried an undercurrent of dominance—a subtle reminder of his control over even the smallest details of my life.

I took a tentative bite, the flavors bursting on my tongue in a symphony of richness and spice. The food was exquisite, a testament to the culinary mastery of the hotel's kitchen, yet my enjoyment was overshadowed by the weight of Taehyung's presence beside me.

As we ate in strained silence, the sound of cutlery against porcelain echoed through the empty dining area, each clink a reminder of the fragile balance between us.

The lavish surroundings, intended to create a sense of intimacy and romance, now felt oppressive, suffocating under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Across the table, Taehyung's gaze remained fixed on me, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a hint of satisfaction. It was as if he relished the discomfort that simmered beneath the surface, reveling in the power dynamics that defined our relationship.

I glanced around the deserted dining area, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. This private sanctuary, meant to shield us from prying eyes, felt more like a cage—a luxurious facade that concealed the reality of our tumultuous union.

As I continued to eat, each bite a struggle against the constraints of my circumstances, I knew that this night would leave an indelible mark on our relationship. The exchange of food, though a simple gesture, symbolized the complexities of our entwined destinies—a delicate balance between duty and defiance, desire and despair.

In the solitude of that moment, amidst the clatter of cutlery and the lingering taste of exquisite cuisine, I wondered how long I could endure this charade, and what sacrifices lay ahead in the name of Taehyung's relentless obsession.

The meal concluded in strained silence, the echoes of cutlery against porcelain fading into an oppressive quiet. Taehyung dabbed his mouth with a napkin, eyes never leaving her. "Shall we dance?"

She stiffened, meeting his gaze with defiance. "No, thank you."

A small, knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I wasn't really asking."

Her hands clenched in her lap. "And I wasn't kidding. I'm not dancing with you."

He rose from his seat, extending a hand towards her. "You always did love this song."

The soft strains of a familiar melody filled the air, the hotel's orchestra playing just for them. She felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with resentment. "That was a long time ago, Taehyung."

His hand remained outstretched, patience masking the steely resolve in his eyes. "Some things don't change."

She looked away, fighting the pull of memories and the inevitability of his dominance. "Some things should."

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper laced with command. "One dance. For our honeymoon."

She glared at him, knowing the futility of resistance. With a resigned sigh, she placed her hand in his, feeling the familiar warmth of his grip. "Just one."

He pulled her to her feet, leading her to the center of the empty dining area. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced along with them. His hold was firm, his movements confident, as if they had never been apart.

As they swayed to the music, the distance between them seemed to close, the unresolved tension melding into the rhythm of the dance. She hated how easily he could command her, how effortlessly he made her body respond to his.

"See? Not so bad," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

She stiffened, refusing to be lulled by the moment. "You always get what you want, don't you?"

His grip tightened slightly, an unspoken reminder of his control. "I know what's best for us."

"Us?" She pulled back to look into his eyes, anger simmering beneath her calm facade. "There is no us, Taehyung. Just your obsession."

He met her gaze, unflinching. "Call it what you want. You still came when I called."

Her jaw clenched, the truth of his words a bitter pill to swallow. "Enjoy your victory then. It won't last."

"We'll see," he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You can fight it all you want, but we both know how this ends."

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of her phone ringing. She glanced at the screen and saw her mother's name flashing. Relief washed over her, a brief respite from the oppressive atmosphere.

"Excuse me," she said coldly to Taehyung, turning away as she answered the call. "Hi, Mom."

Her mother's voice was warm and concerned. "Sweetheart, how are you? I’ve been worried."

She moved a few steps away, her voice softening. "I'm fine, Mom. Just…busy."

Taehyung watched her intently, his expression unreadable. He stayed close enough to hear, yet far enough to give the illusion of privacy.

Her mother sighed on the other end of the line. "I know you said everything is fine, but you don’t sound happy. Is everything okay with you and Taehyung?"

She glanced back at him, his eyes never leaving her. "Everything’s as it always is," she said carefully. "Don't worry about me."

"You don't have to pretend, dear. You can come home anytime you want. We’ll support you."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears, the comfort in her mother's words a stark contrast to the cold presence beside her. "I know, Mom. I just need some time."

Taehyung stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Tell her I said hello," he murmured, his voice laced with possessiveness.

She shot him a glare before responding into the phone. "Mom, Taehyung says hello."

Her mother hesitated. "Tell him hello. But remember, you always have a place here. Don't forget that."

"I won't forget, Mom. I promise," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you, sweetheart. Call me if you need anything."

"I love you too, Mom," she said, ending the call and slipping the phone back into her pocket.

Taehyung was beside her instantly, his hand brushing her arm. "Everything okay?"

She pulled away, her eyes filled with defiance. "None of your concern."

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "Always so strong. That’s one of the things I admire about you."

"Admire?" She laughed bitterly. "You mean control."

His expression hardened. "Call it what you will. But remember, you chose this."

She stepped closer, her voice a whisper of fury. "No, Taehyung. You chose this. And one day, I will choose to walk away. For good."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. "We'll see about that."

As she stood there, the echoes of their argument and the call from her mother ringing in her ears, she realized that this was just another battle in their endless war. And she knew that the fight was far from over.

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