“You were flirting with him.” “I’m married, not dead, Jimin.” “You’re married,” Jimin said calmly, “and you’re in public.” Aeri raised an eyebrow. “Relax. I’m still wearing your ring.”
Cameras loved them; they always had.
Yu Jimin stood confidently, one hand resting on the small of her wife’s back, her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Beside her, Yu Aeri was glowing, in a black dress that hugged her curves like it had been tailored for her.
They looked like a perfect, powerful couple from a magazine. The camera flashes were blinding, but they were used to it.
“You’re good at pretending,” Aeri whispered in Jimin’s ear, barely moving her lips. She sounded amused, maybe even a little mocking.
Jimin’s smile didn’t falter and she kept looking at the cameras. “So are you.”
The red carpet was just a stage, and they both played their roles perfectly. After all, the whole point of their marriage had always been about appearances and about strengthening their family legacies.
A contract, three years. There was no exit before unless they were willing to risk public fallout, family dishonor, and penalties that were big enough to make them think about it twice.
Three years. They were only one in.
Inside the gala room, it was all about money and business talks. Jimin shook hands, exchanged banalities, and delivered fake compliments with practised ease.
Aeri, meanwhile, was in her element, laughing too loudly, leaning in too close to strangers, and pulling Jimin closer when people were looking at them.
She didn’t mind playing the good wife; it was a game to her, and Jimin had long stopped hoping it would ever be anything else.
The front door of their penthouse clicked shut behind them. Aeri quickly removed her heels, dropping them by the entrance carelessly, walking toward the living room, her dress unzipped halfway down her back.
“I hate galas,” she sighed, plopping onto the couch. “It’s always full of boring men. Their champagne is cheap as fuck and everyone is pretending not to cheat on their husbands.”
Jimin didn’t respond; she removed her heels more carefully, placing them neatly by the entrance before making her way into the kitchen.
“I thought you liked attention,” she said dryly.
Aeri smirked, not even bothering to look at her. “I like being desired. It’s not the same.”
Of course not.
Jimin opened the fridge and stared at the rows of expensive sparkling bottles, all lined up perfectly. She picked one and opened it before taking a long sip, letting the bubbles settle her nerves.
“We should talk about the charity auction next week,” she said, turning toward the living room. “We’re expected to be there together.”
Aeri hummed, typing on her phone. “Just send me the outfit memo.”
“I was thinking we could discuss it together.”
Aeri glanced over her shoulder, arching a brow. “We never did that.”
Jimin said nothing, taking another sip.
Aeri stretched like a cat before going back to typing on her phone. “You looked beautiful tonight,” Jimin said hesitantly.
“I know.”
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