Pose For Me | K.TH

16

AILA

He looks pained.

"What are you doing with her." He whispers to me in low Korean, shifting his hand to my wrist. He pulls me away, avoiding my stare.

But not before the woman behind me calls out in French.

"Don't tell me that she is the new one that I'm hearing about. She looks like she can't even hold up half her own."

His grip on me tightens.

And I'm blinking in confusion, as he walks me back towards my room. Just before we're out of hearing range, I hear her voice come again— more seductive.

"I'll be waiting. Come talk to me, will you?"

Taehyung flinches. And I feel it, the slight shaking of his hand against mine.

My eyes widen.

She'd said something bad to him, hadn't she?

"Are you okay?" I quickly say, looking up at him.

He looks back down at me, shadows under the angles of his face.

"...are you, Miss Aila?"

"Nothing happened. She said a few things, but I couldn't understand anyways." I say, giving him an easy smile to try and make things better.

He still looked shaken.

"That's good." He whispers, voice trailing as he stops at outside of my door. Then he softly touches his fingertips to my chin.

"Please. Will you stay in your room for just a little?"

"Y-Yeah. Sure."

"Merci. I will be back soon, I promise."

But as I look at his disappearing figure, the confusion in my mind suddenly clicks in realization.

Wait.

Was he going back to that woman?

_______________________________

TAEHYUNG

She gives me a smile.

And it feels like it's eating into my mind.

"You came." She says in soft French. "I knew you would."

"You've become even more beautiful."

Disgust shades my eyes when she purrs. This was the woman that had broken me, thrown the pieces to hell.

"Rosalie."

She tips her head, dark blonde curls spilling over her shoulder.

"Is there a reason you're here?" I growl, staring down at her dress. It's my own design— the one I'd given to her three years ago. When I'd been stupid enough.

"I came for you, of course. I'd hoped to find you, but found something even better."

"That girl."

My hands tighten when she touches her palm to my chest, fingers teasing at the line of the coat. Her lashed eyes flicker.

"Is she my replacement?"

I hit her hand away. The place where she'd touched me burns— burns like fire. How many women had I slept with just to forget about her?