"Why, Your Majesty, it's a pleasure to have you in my humble crib."

Pure sarcasm dripped from his voice. Pure rage dripped from your figure and every quick step. You didn't breathe, even though your heartbeat was fast and demanded oxygen. You didn't look at your surroundings, even though you knew that when you entered the lion's den, you should have an attentive eye. You were racing against time — against life and against the sick dynamic it had taken on. You raced, trying to outwit the puzzles that seemed to take a liking in thickening your plot. And you didn't stop until you reached his seat behind the mahogany desk. It disgusted you— the grandeur of the furnishings he had chosen for his office. Made you want to break everything just to spite him. To set it all on fire, with him in it. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. He didn't put up a fight. He let you have your way. Small victories and all.

"Cut the bullshit, Seokjin." You were standing toe-to-toe. Face to face. Your eyes gazed into the depths of each other's souls. If you still had souls, that is. He smelled of freshly dry-cleaned fabric, cedar wood, and insidious nature. You smelled of lavender, white musk, and endless lies. He liked your scent. He liked it so much that he leaned closer to you. He tilted his head into your neck and took a deep breath. "While your visit is always a welcome pleasure, I would have preferred it if you had knocked first. I could've been indecent."

You pushed him away and hissed: "You are far from decent indeed. You are vile, Seokjin."

"Big words, Cassandra, my dear. Very big words." He rounded you and went to the cupboard, getting a cup and pouring himself some liquor. "But I will take it with a grain of salt for old times' sake."

You were seething. Anger so potent it blinded you. So much so that you walked over to the cupboard he was leaning against, grabbed the whiskey glass he was holding, and threw it on the floor with a loud bang. The amber liquid splashed onto the carpeted floor. He didn't flinch. The same smug, almost unimpressed look on his face didn't disappear even when the glass shattered and the sound that followed the impact echoed around the office. "Your manipulative tactics end now, Seokjin. I'm so fed up with you and this double-themed life, I can't take it anymore. How the fuck are you related to Jungkook? And before you think about conjuring lies," you closed the distance between you, let your eyes bore into his onyxes challengingly, swiftly pulled your switchblade out of your jeans pocket, and pointed it at his neck. "Think twice because now I'm out for blood, and you know very well how of a persistent bitch I can be."

He laughed. He actually genuinely laughed. With abundance. With a husky tenor and a row of pearly whites at sight. Your grip on the knife trembled, but you didn't let it show. Your heartbeat quickened by the second and sweat made your palms clammy. But you said it — you were out for blood. You wouldn't let something as trivial as feelings deter you. But you would let them drive you to commit murder, though. How logical, really.

The thing is, actions lead to reactions. You, out of all people, should know that. And with a quick movement that you didn't know how it came about, a reaction to your actions materialized. Seokjin pulled you by the hand holding the blade to his throat while the traces of his smile were still visible on his face. He quickly turned you around so that your back was to him and pointed the knife at your throat while your hand still held it. The pressure of his grip on your wrist was so strong that you couldn't break it even if you fought hard. God knows you did. You squirmed and huffed and tried to outmaneuver him. His weight on your body blocked your movements as he pinned you between him and the cabinet, and you found yourself caught in the middle of the results of your actions — trapped by his reactions. His breaths fanned the side of your neck and face. They smelled of alcohol, mint and impending danger. Your breaths were labored, breaking the silence that settled over the office where you stood. "You pulled the wrong card, Cass. You know how I feel about your feistiness. Now I'm hard. Guess we have a problem. So how do you plan to handle it?"

"Fuck you," you hissed. The tremor in your voice was audible, as was the quivering of your lips as the tears ran down your cheeks. It was a first. The pent-up emotions caught up to you, and now you found yourself vulnerable and bleeding with a shark hangry for weakness.

"You're welcome anytime, Cass." Seokjin's voice was a low groan as he placed a kiss on your temple, straightened up, and threw the knife on the ground. You turned and looked at him, without a care about the tears that smeared your makeup, massaging your wrist that you were sure would gain a bluish hue come this evening. How would you explain your bruise to Jungkook? Yeah, how indeed, especially now that he doubted there was something going on between you and Seokjin. Guess you've just confirmed his doubts with your stupid actions.

Action, reaction. Tick-tock. The clock read the hour you kissed your marriage goodbye. O'clock.

"So to answer your question," Seokjin offered as he lit a cigarette, unfazed by the penetrating look you were throwing his way. "You're not the only one who can make friends with the law. Don't take it personally, my dear. It's just business. You know I need influential people on retainer. Your husband's father was a good friend of my old man. Figured I should carry on the tradition. That's all." He shrugged his shoulders.

"You kept me in the dark about that, Seokjin," you shouted. Your finger pointed accusingly at him. "You sent a fucking wreath to my wedding and never mentioned it. Jungkook knows we know each other now. He..." You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing yourself to get the disgusting words out. "He thinks there's something between us, and I couldn't even find the right way to clear up this huge misunderstanding because you failed to tell me you were acquainted with my husband during the endless phone calls where you threatened me with his life."

"Did I?" Seokjin stubbed out his cigarette and put his hand in his pocket. "I tend to be generous like that." Rubbing his chin, he added, "And forgetful. Gotta excuse me."

"Seokjin!" You shouted with your eyes closed. You had reached a boiling point and couldn't hold back the rage that simmered your blood. You didn't even have time to open your eyes when you felt his figure hovering over you. His callous fingers clutched your jaw rather unabashedly. "Do you think I'm some kind of couples counselor?" He hissed through bared teeth, every word dripping with venom. "Do you think I fucking care what your husband might or might not think of us? It's high time you remembered who you're talking to. I'm not the other man, Cassandra, I'm your boss, and you better keep that in mind and adjust your tone accordingly."

"You don't get it, do you?" you shouted, throwing your hands in the air. Anger turned your face and neck red. Your heartbeat was so fast it was visible on the engorged vein in your neck and the one that bulged in your forehead. "If Jungkook digs deep into our relationship — and believe me, he would — we'll all end up in jail."

Seokjin pushed you away with the same hand that held your jaw like a fly that had disturbed his peace. He adjusted his vest and gave you a once-over. "Let me set your facts straight, my dear Cassandra. If your doting husband digs deep into your life, you and your BFF will land in jail. There's nothing that could incriminate me. For instance, I didn't rape his sister, nor did I introduce his sister to her rapist. Simple math, Cass. Your husband has no vendetta against me." He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders suggestively. "You, on the other hand..."

Now, if you wanted to be honest with god, you'd agree with every word he said. Now, agreeing with something and being satisfied with the agreement are two distinct matters. Seokjin was right. Jungkook wasn't a person who was trying to turn the world into some dandy place where there was no corruption. Jungkook was trying to set the record straight. He was trying to collect a debt, and what he owed was actually with you, not Seokjin. You ran your fingers through your hair as the weight of the situation finally downed on you. Seokjin set protection around him. He was untouchable, and there was nothing you could do to change that outcome. You fell on the couch behind you, defeated, and looked up—looked through the roof, maybe in search of divine justice. Maybe you were just lost in thoughts about how you could fix this hot mess. The jury was still out on that.

"Now," Seokjin said as he hopped over to his chair behind his stupidly huge desk and sat down. "You have a dinner to cook. I like my meal with no spit. Medium rare steak, if you're eager to please your guest, would be appreciated." He made a show of organizing documents before closing his laptop and looking at you with a smile. As if everything was fine. As if you weren't drugging the population with the poison you sold. As if you didn't deceitfully lie to a person who considered you close— who loved you with all his being. A person who trusted you and gave you the concept of a family you had never been introduced to. Most of all, Seokjin smiled at you as if you had no past together, for which he apparently still blames you for reducing to a past with the decision you made when you left him for another. When you left him for the man you're lying to now because of him.

Such a vicious cycle if you ever saw one. Upon reflection, it wasn't just a cycle. It was a labyrinth made of bricks of lies and never-ending deviousness.

You stood up and picked up your switchblade from the floor before returning his smile with your own as you wiped your tears with your sweaty fingers. A sad, pathetic smile with red-rimmed eyes full of traces of mascara and smeared concealer. "I don't go down without a fight. You, of all people, should know that. After all, you were the one who trained me."

You didn't stay to watch his reaction. You darted to the door and slammed it behind you for good measure. This conversation — this whole situation - was barren. Seokjin wasn't in the business of making it easier for you. In fact, he was the first supporter of the fate that wanted to destroy the normalcy you found in your marriage— whether it was real or not.

When you reached your car, and before starting the engine, you cleared your throat as you grabbed your phone and dialed Jungkook's number. If you hadn't been so deep in your head when you got out of SK Holding, you might not have had to make that call at all. You could have just crossed the street and walked to your husband's car. But your brain was so scrambled that you didn't consider the extent of Jungkook's doubts. Horses in the race are always very narrow-visioned by their blinkers. You've had yours superglued to your temples lately. Otherwise, you would have remembered to check the premises — in fact, you should have checked to see if anyone was following you on the way to Seokjin's office in the very first place.

Such a shame. Because Jungkook has actually been following your every move since he saw you outside Taehyung's condo. He would bid you goodbye at the threshold of your house and wish you a good day, and when your car left the front yard, he'd sit behind the wheel and trail your every move. See, while Jungkook never, even in his wildest nightmares, considered you to be a drug dealer, he was very much convinced that you and Seokjin were bumping uglies. In fact, he was losing sleep thinking that you would file for divorce and choose Seokjin over him. See, it's all about actions and the reactions they bring. But when lies become the source of actions, the reactions start surging into different paths.

Action, reaction.

When he followed you this afternoon as you drove from the library to Seokjin's office, he prayed. Jungkook, the man who believed in no religion, in no omnipotent entity, was actually praying. He prayed as you hit the blinker to take the last right turn before you pulled over to the curb of SK Holding. Prayed that you were going somewhere else and SK Holding was just in your way. See, a man could pray. A man could hope, but you destroyed his hope and showed him reasons why he should remain without religion by throwing your car key to the valet and entering Seokjin's company. Now he was sure that God wasn't there to receive requests. And that shit stung so much he was about to throw up.

In the three hours you spent in Seokjin's office, Jungkook polished off a pack and a half of cigarettes. At one point, he threw away the half-smoked cigarettes because they were wet—wet with his tears. They were silent he didn't even realize he was crying. He didn't even know why he was crying. At first, he thought his wounded pride was the reason, but then he realized it wasn't. He realized that if he lost you, too, it would be a fatal blow. The last straw.

"Hi baby," you sounded chirpy. All giddy and stuff. Some acting classes you're taking! "I was grocery shopping and wanted to know if you had something specific in mind for our dinner tonight. Should I bring some wine too?"

Man, this was ridiculous. Or maybe it was infuriating, given how Jungkook was two steps away from tearing the steering wheel apart with his bare hands. He closed his eyes, took a deep, silent breath, and prayed his voice wouldn't betray the disappointment that filled his heart. "Love, I'm in the middle of something right now. I trust you'll take good care of us tonight. I'll bring dessert on the way back."

"Okay," pause. Inhale. Tick. "I—uhm; Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you." Exhale. Tack.

Your confession took him back to the old days. To when you first said those three words. To the bleachers on your campus and the kiss you shared in the pouring rain. His jaw tightened as he recalled that moment. It was still very vivid in his mind. A moment that was so unadulterated and real, free of lies, deceptions, and secrets. A moment in which he didn't control your body and play with your anatomy. A moment when he had promised you eternity and meant every word— when he had promised you protection and meant every word. He closed his fist until the nails nearly tore the skin in his palm and decided he was reaping the reactions to his actions.

"I love you, Jeon Jungkook, and when I love someone, I don't give up. Do you want to know why?" The lines around your eyes creased as you smiled and peppered his nose with kisses. He looked down at you and presented you with a lazy smile.

"Hmm, why is that, Cassie?" He kissed your eyes, your cheeks, and nibbled on your lips as you uttered the words.

"Because you're the only person I ever loved, Jungkook."

That didn't seem to be the case anymore.

Silence. That was what you were met with. A silence that flatlined your heart. A silence that was so long and yet so short when you counted the seconds it logically lasted. Tick-tock. Your fingers tapped incessantly on the steering wheel. Your leg bobbed at breakneck speed. And only when his voice rang out did you slouch in your seat, put your head over the steering wheel, and exhale deeply.

It was funny because he looked at your head as he plopped down on the steering wheel. He saw you covering your mouth to stifle a cry that was about to erupt. He saw you frantically wiping your tears and trying to smile despite your guilt, and it was like pouring gasoline into a burning woodpile. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the steering wheel with the last vestige of sanity he still possessed. The wedding ring on his ring finger glinted in the glow of the streetlights. A mocking reminder of what you were and where you were heading towards. He circled it with his thumb as he looked at you, lying through your teeth — lying to him, just after you'd come out of Seokjin's office. Lies, lies, lies. He lit another cigarette. Maybe it was the last one from the second pack of red Marlboro. He inhaled the tar, the humiliation, and the pain that choked his chest.

Tick-tock. The clock read the hour he was introduced to betrayal. O'clock.

"I love you too, baby." Inhale. Exhale. Beep. Time is up.