TAEHYUNG'S POV:

A little right— uh no...
—Perhaps a bit left?

I attempted to find the perfect spot for the soft rabbit plushie in my cabin.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the tiny plushie perched precariously on the corner of my desk.

It seemed ridiculous, really. Not my actions, but the stubborn toy which refused to stay perfect for my everyday view. Though I agree, my actions were ridiculous too, but it didn't matter when my main mission was setting up Mr. Whiteee.

Mr. Whiteee. That's what she named him.

I adjusted it again, shifting it slightly closer to the edge. No, too close. I didn't want it to fall.

I pulled it slightly towards me. Good, but at this rate it might become a distraction. I moved it again.

Why is this so complicated?

Finally, I adjusted it one last time, leaning back on my chair with a small, victorious grin tugging at my lips, satisfied with its placement.

There it sat, with its stitched smile and floppy ears, looking entirely out of place amidst the formality of my workplace but perfectly placed in my world.

I stared at it for a moment longer, and before I realized it, a small laugh escaped me. My fingers reached for my pocket, where the folded piece of paper rested.

Unfolding it slowly, I read the words for what must've been the tenth time.

"Good morning, Mr. CEO + Co-chairman. Don't work too hard, I'm leaving early today P. S. I won that cutie for you so get used to keeping it"

I chuckled again like an idiot, imagining the goofiness behind her sweet words and folded the chit before placing it back in my coat's pocket.

My gaze travelled back to Mr. Whiteee, I reached over to grab the milk white plushie in my hands and as I traced my thumb against the soft toy, the memories of last night flooded back to my mind. The memories were still fresh and warm, locked in my head and replaying like an ongoing movie scene.

My heart swelled, every minute a vivid memory, each one beating inside me like a second heart. Yesterday was a bittersweet memory, a memory too precious to ruin but impossible to separate from the ache of my own failings.

Like a polaroid dream which I tried so hard to escape but I was hopelessly pulled back like a defeated piece of metal.

The happy ending was something I didn't expect though. I thought everything shattered, that we were over, that her stubborn belief in me dim under the weight of my selfishness.

And maybe it did.

The loneliness and the thought of being abandoned again haunted me like a ghost in that cold room I shut myself in.

I never wanted to bring up this topic, not even to myself. But every time I tried to ignore it, my chest tightened, my happiness left a bitter taste in my mouth as if smiling itself was a curse casted upon me. No matter how hard I tried to ignore this heavy feeling, I couldn't shake the truth that waited behind the scenes, the truth that I broke her heart.

I closed my eyes, the memory of her hurt expression piercing through me.

I broke her heart.

She desperately tried to help me out but I shut myself out like she was a stranger who didn't need to see what I was going through. She desperately tried to make conversation—words, music, eyes, even in silence, she tried to communicate but I?

I'm such a hopeless, scared and undeserving man who kept pushing her away. But how could I let her in when my past was a storm I couldn’t escape myself?

One half wanted to hold onto her forever, to let her bright, reckless light flood every shadow of my life.

"She would accept you" That one part of me whispered.

The other half? "She would hate you" It whispered a dark and realistic truth which was a stark contrast to the fairy tale response from the other.

It reminded me that my past wasn’t something I could just talk about to her and be ok.

I was scared. I didn't want to break her heart again. But what scared me more was the thought of her abandoning me like I never existed, like I never made her feel anything towards me, like I'm just a stranger, all this just because of my past...

The mere thought sent a wave of panic crashing over me.

I didn't want to lose her when I didn't even have a strong reason to stop her. I wanted her to be in love with me, to love me, to accept me, or atleast try. I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when I was just beginning to hope—no, to believe—that we could be something more than an arrangement.

I know I couldn't hide my past forever but this was not the right time to open up about it. I didn't want to ruin us when we were just trying to fall in love.

I would erase everything from the very existence if it were to break her heart; even my past.

"It's ok if you don't want to share anything"

"you can lean on me"

"You're not bad. You just prefer a smaller circle"

"You'd be mint chocolate"

Her words from yesterday struck at my heart like a lightening, clenching it every time they rang in my ears, yet it's softness was unwavering. She was too sweet and understanding for someone as unpredictable as me. Her warmth was like a soft sun ray, something so precious and gentle yet so rare and undeserving for a lonely night like me.

Her warmth was a gift I didn’t deserve, yet selfishly clung to.

I love her, God, I love her. She was under my skin, like blood and flesh. Her mere thought held the power of shaking me from within, a glance from her alone lit me up like a flower towards the first ray of sun. She made me happy just by being there, sharing a house, a meal, a bed, any moment—these weren't just normal things to me, these were my best days —a lifeline.

There wasn't one day I regretted this marriage, neither was I ungrateful for once. I've been trying to be a better man for her, since day one and ever since then not even one day passed by when I felt stuck in our arrangement. Sure, it was awkward at first but she was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Yesterday, when she hugged me back, it felt like the world crumbled upon me, I never felt so weak and vulnerable. Her warmth was unfamiliar yet so familiar as if that was the very thing that could protect me. My soul yearned for a home as warm as her, a home that could allow me to be vulnerable, a home that would protect me no matter how exposed I am.

My arms still burned with the memory of her between them. She had been so close, her broken heart was beating against mine, offering me comfort even as she bled. And I—shamelessly, selfishly—took it, knowing full well the weight of what I had done.

I was ashamed. I couldn’t escape the guilt of yesterday, and the night before that. But in that moment, all I wanted was for her to be in my arms again, for me to hold her close and return her love, to make her feel safe and cherished, to protect her just as fiercely as she had protected me.

And when she let me hold her hand, I felt like the worthiest man in the world. That was the effect she had on me, with her I don't feel as lonely and undeserving as I think I am. And that's exactly what pushes me forward in this journey of giving myself a chance to love her more each day.

Because I may not deserve her, maybe I don't deserve to be her first, maybe she deserved a better man than me, someone who was not introverted and so bad at expressing his feelings for her; nevertheless, I am desperate, willing to make every effort, to take every chance and every hint just to be what she deserves.

I would do anything to make her love me. I would be a better person, a better man, a man she always deserved, a man who'd never let her shed a tear of regret and a man who'd love her unconditionally for until I count my last breath.

Just like she was not just my wife, but my love. I didn't want to be just a husband to her, that's a position I chose; I want to be more than that. I want to be her love as well, I wish to earn that tag.

To be the love of her life.

"So, did Y/n gave you that plushie?"

A voice made me snap out of the whirlwind of my overwhelming emotions. My brows shot up before I pulled my head from the plushie towards Jimin.

He was standing right infront of the desk, his hands crossed over his chest as he judged us both, me and the plushie in my hand. I didn't even notice when he came in, how long was he here for?

I took a deep breath, keeping Mr. Whiteee back on the desk and relaxing my features to the default one as I leaned back on my chair.

"Did you ask my permission to come in?" I asked, trying to be as nonchalant as always but there was a hint of exhaustion in my voice.

He scoffed and then rolled his eyes, "For like 5 times," he made his way to one of the two chairs infront of me and sat on the right one, "and that was like 6 and a half minutes ago" he said raising his brows back at me.

I stared at him, silently cursing myself for zoning out.

"That doesn't — "

"Now tell me about the progress" he laid his words ahead after cutting me off in between.

I almost rolled my eyes at him, done with his nosy behaviour, leaning forward as I squinted at him. "Tell me something, why are you always so interested in my married life, huh?"

Jimin chuckled sarcastically, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, "Because I’m your best friend."

"Not at work—" I began, only to watch him swiftly remove his official company ID badge and place it on the desk with exaggerated flair.

"Am I now?" he quipped, smirking even wider.

I rolled my eyes, sighing. There was no winning against his nosy antics. He was worse than those gossip aunties.

He huffed dramatically, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone as he whined, "Ah, now spill. Tell me about this plushie story. I’m sure there’s some interesting story behind this guy... Usually, I’m the one winning stuff like this for my wife, but—"

I sat up straighter, his words catching my attention. "Wait. You know how to play the claw machine?" My tone betrayed my disbelief because, honestly, I didn’t.

He scoffed, crossing his arms with the kind of pride only Jimin could muster. "Of course. I’m a pro."

"Yeah, right," I muttered under my breath, narrowing my eyes. But I couldn’t hide my curiosity. "You’re seriously telling me you’ve mastered the claw machine? That rigged thing?"

"Mastered it?!" he repeated, grinning like he’d just revealed a secret superpower. "I’ve won dozens of plushies for my darling"

A pang of envy hit me. How could he win dozens when I’d barely managed one—and only because she had played for me?

Jimin noticed my expression, his smirk growing. "Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play?" He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my seat and avoiding his gaze. Leaning back, I attempted to play it cool, though the effort was probably written all over my face. "Uh—"

"YOU DON’T?!" he exclaimed, his voice pitching high in mock disbelief before he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach like I’d just told him the funniest joke of the century.

I huffed, rolling my eyes as I crossed my arms. "Seriously? What’s so funny about not knowing how to play a claw machine?" I muttered, but deep down, it stung.

Not because of his laughter—well, not entirely—but because Jimin knew something I didn’t. And worse, he was apparently good at it. He’d won dozens, for his wife and I, well, I won one from my wife. The pang of jealousy was as sharp as it was ridiculous.

"Don’t worry, I’ll teach you," Jimin said, his smirk practically radiating mischief. "Maybe next time, you can win something for her yourself instead of her doing all the hard work." He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

I turned my head to look the other way, choosing not to dignify his teasing with a response. His promises weren’t exactly known for their reliability, anyway.

"So, that’s it?" he asked, his tone expectant. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, still feeling a tinge of jealousy and not at all interested in continuing the conversation.

"What do you want to hear?" I muttered, leaning back in my chair.

Jimin leaned forward, his expression somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. "That’s really it? That’s all that happened? She won a plushie for Mr. Princess, and you, like some baby girl, just accepted it without making a move? You call that progress?!" His voice rose with each word, dripping with mock disappointment as he threw his hands in the air.

I frowned, straightening up slightly.

Jimin’s jaw dropped, his expression one of pure exasperation. "You’ve got to be kidding me. Progress, as in, you know, something significant? A confession, a kiss, anything that doesn’t scream ‘middle school crush’! She practically handed you a golden ticket, and you didn’t even take it?!"

I sighed, my lips curling into a faint smile as I thought back to last night. The memory played vividly in my mind—the way her hand fit in mine, the blush that spread across her cheeks, and how she bolted to the claw machine to escape the moment. I could still feel the electrifying effect in my palm.

“Well…” I started, my voice softer now, “we held hands. For the first time.”

Jimin blinked, staring at me like I’d just announced I was moving to Mars. “That’s your big progress? Holding hands?”

Jimin rolled his eyes but leaned forward, “Alright, I’ll give you that as it's still something big coming from 'The traditional couple' " His voice was laced with playful sarcasm, but his eyes were sharp, as if he wasn’t entirely joking.

“But just so you know,” he continued, his tone shifting to something more serious, “she’s not going to wait forever"

He pointed at the plushie on my desk, his expression softening for a moment. “Think about it, Taehyung. You’ve already got the plushie. Now go win the girl”

Jimin had a point. Winning her over wasn't just about waiting for moments—it was about creating them.

Just because we were married didn't mean that I had forever to make us a real deal. We weren't teenagers in middle school going through a situationship, we were a couple standing on the edge of two opposite cliffs which needed a bridge to join them and only immediate actions can make it possible.

I was determined to make it happen before our first anniversary.

He leaned back in his chair, still smirking. I could tell he had something else to say, but before he could speak, a knock interrupted us.

"Mr. Park, everyone is waiting," his secretary announced from the door.

Jimin sighed dramatically, standing up as he buttoned his coat. “Team lunch,” he said, glancing at me with a casual shrug. “A little bonding never hurt anyone.”

I watched him for a moment before rising from my chair as well. “I’ll join,” I said, grabbing my coat.

He paused mid-step, turning to face me with an incredulous look. “You’ll join? The almighty Taehyung, gracing us mere mortals with his presence at a team lunch?”

I ignored his sarcasm, slipping my arms into my coat. “I don’t have any meetings today. Might as well.”

Jimin chuckled as he opened the door. “This should be interesting.”

We walked together to the restaurant, the team already gathered around a long table when we arrived. The room was alive with laughter and casual conversations.

The moment Jimin and I stepped into the restaurant, the lively chatter at the long table dropped to a hush. It was as if someone had pressed mute on a chaotic scene. Heads turned toward us, and suddenly, everyone looked way too interested in their plates or glasses of water.

As I settled into the chair, I noticed the once lively group now resembled a class of students caught gossiping about the principal. No one dared speak. Forks clinked awkwardly against plates, and someone at the far end nervously cleared his throat.

Jimin leaned over, barely able to contain his laughter. “You’ve turned team lunch into a funeral. Nice work.”

I shot him a warning glance before addressing the table. “You don’t have to stop talking just because I’m here.”

One brave soul, likely in marketing, chuckled nervously. “Of course, sir. It’s just…uh, rare to see you at these lunches.”

“It’s rare because I usually have better things to do,” I replied flatly, and the table collectively tensed and everyone coughed together.

The table sat in an uncomfortable silence as I finally took my first bite. The room felt like it was holding its breath, eyes trained on me as if we were in the middle of the world’s most intense food critic showdown.

I chewed slowly, watching the reactions of my employees, their expressions a mix of nervous anticipation. I swallowed before speaking, keeping my tone deliberately calm.

"I want this chef in our Gangnam restaurant." I said, breaking the silence.

The entire table exchanged nervous glances, and someone coughed again, louder this time, as if trying to mask the tension.

"Yes, sir, we'll try," Mr. Jung said, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and urgency.

"I don't want 'try' I want effort," I replied naturally.

Mr. Jung, sensing the gravity behind my words, straightened up. "Of course. I will bring him."

I nodded, offering no further acknowledgment, my mind already elsewhere. The conversation was over, but the air still crackled with the weight of my expectations.

"So," I began casually, studying their faces with a raised brow, my arms folded tightly over my chest. "Is this it? Team lunch? That's all?" I questioned, the confusion evident in my voice.

They chattered among themselves, the tension slowly starting to rise again, the panic in their voice noticeable. Jimin, sensing the shift, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous smile, muffling his laugh under his palm.

"Chill," he muttered, nudging me slightly.
"The company get-away." he pinned the topic.

At the mention of the get-away, the team’s attention immediately shifted. Their faces relaxed, and the unease seemed to vanish. They were clearly more comfortable discussing something less intimidating.

"Yes, the company get-away," one of the employees spoke up, looking at me with cautious curiosity. "What do you think about it, sir?"

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "What about it?"

Jimin leaned in, his smile growing wider as he spoke, clearly excited to present the plan. "Well, we’ve planned some new things this year. This time, we’re planning to bring our partners to the get-away and have them participate with us" His eyes flicked toward me, waiting for my reaction.

One of the younger team members, likely from HR, spoke up tentatively, "It’d be great if you brought your wife along, sir, if... if possible."

I blinked, surprised by the suggestion. It was clear they were all just trying to please me, but the suggestion felt... oddly pleasing.

For a moment, I felt a strange hesitation. A company get-away? I never went to these things. They always seemed like a waste of time—until now. The thought of being there with her... of having her by my side... of participating in the games with her... well, that was something else. My gaze flickered to Jimin, who was already waiting for me to catch on.

Jimin smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "See, even the team thinks you should bring Y/N. Don’t disappoint them."

I froze for a second, the words hanging in the air. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider it. But now that they were suggesting it, I found myself actually liking the idea. There was no reason not to—she was the reason I was even considering it.

I leaned forward slightly, already knowing what I was going to say, "Alright. I’ll speak with her"

***

Epilogue:-

(how did Mr. Whiteee made it to the Kim family)

Y/n darted across the street, her heart pounding like a drum as she tried to control her smile and mask the pink flush that refused to leave her cheeks.

Behind her, Taehyung followed with his caramel ice cream in hand, a proud but subtle smirk gracing his lips. Despite his usual calm demeanor, he couldn’t deny the lingering effect of holding her hand, his own heart still beating a little faster than usual.

He stopped just a step behind her, leaning casually against the machine, the perfect picture of nonchalance.

“You want me to win something for you?” he asked, breaking the silence with a playful tilt of his head as he leaned away from the machine.

She finally looked up at him, her wide, slightly panicked eyes meeting his, and for a moment, he felt like time slowed down.

The soft glow of the streetlight lit her face just enough to make his heart skip a beat. She seemed to steady herself before speaking, her voice light but curious. “You will? You know how to play?”

Taehyung scoffed with an air of confidence, straightening his posture. “There’s nothing the Kim Taehyung cannot do.” The playful arrogance in his voice earned a small, amused smile from her as she stepped aside to give him space.

With the reins in his hands, he adjusted the controls with precision, his focus unshakable.

First attempt — the claw missed.

Second attempt — slipped.

Third attempt — almost...but no.

Fourth attempt — he cleared his throat, the tension rising.

Fifth attempt — an awkward chuckle escaped him as he tried to brush off the growing embarrassment.

Sixth attempt — Y/n covered her mouth, barely containing her laugh.

Seventh attempt — they exchanged awkward glances, his confidence visibly crumbling.

By his fifteenth attempt, Taehyung stood there in defeat, his hand frozen on the controls as the claw once again failed to grab a plushie. He refused to meet her gaze now, the humiliation weighing heavily on him. Meanwhile, Y/n struggled to hold back her amusement, her lips twitching with the effort to suppress her laugh.

Finally, he sighed and turned to her, his voice quiet and a little pouty. “Can I… borrow another coin?”

Y/n couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle this time. She stepped forward, taking the controls from him. “Move” she said gently but with a teasing edge.

Taehyung stepped aside with a dramatic, shameful but cute pout, watching her take over.

*********

A/n:- Late update. Sorry, I got demotivated on this one. But the coming chapters will be cute and fun to read!

His past will be revealed almost at the end of this book, so don't think too much about it for now, just know he didn't do anything bad but everyone has their own traumas, right?