𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ✓

Chapter 3

"ANYWAYS, how is it going with your new wife?" The man asked in Korean, a smirk spread over his face.

"She doesn't love me, father! She barely even talks to me!" Hyunjin exclaimed back with a tearful expression, his eyes focused on the beautiful portrait in front of him.

The man gritted his teeth, already fed up with the conversation.

"Make her love you. Do you hear me? Be nice to her. Talk to her in English. Do whatever you can to please her!" He ordered. "Why is that too hard for you? Why do you have to be a failure in everything you do?"

He teared up at the sentence, his heart aching in disappointment.

"I'm trying, I really am! But all I know is that I love her and she doesn't love me back. She doesn't even reply to me!"

The man rolled his eyes, his chest tightening in frustration.

"Well then, try harder!" He yelled through gritted teeth. "And, I swear to God, if you get on her bad side or upset her further, I will personally come to the United States to smack you myself! Is that clear?"

Hyunjin nodded in obedience, his voice low with pure disappointment as he wiped away his tears. "Yes, father."

The man hung up the call a few seconds later.

Hyunjin sighed and swallowed his saliva, tears of heartbreak running down his handsome face.

Why was he a failure? He asked himself, his heart aching helplessly.

He had no idea.

When people continue to tell you something you're not, you eventually start to believe that it was true all along. It shatters your self-esteem and breaks your confidence.

And when he thought that he might as well escape his parents' house and leave for his wife's mansion in an entirely different country, he thought he might be free. Just a little bit.

He certainly didn't think they would control him from afar. Then again, what made him think that they wouldn't?

A sob escaped his plump lips. The lips that were aching for his wife's contact. His vision turned blurry.

He slowly stood up and walked out of the room, toward the kitchen.

His wife would be there any moment now. He needed to try and make her something to eat, considering that she would be tired from working.

He allowed soft sobs to escape his mouth as he grabbed a plate from the dishstand. His hands trembled and shook, and even then, he tried to grab the plate with all his might so it doesn't slip from his shaking hand.

Wrong.

Against his will, when he took a step away from the dishstand, he let out a sob and his hand shook once again.

And the plate slipped.

He flinched when the sound of the plate hitting the floor and shattering into small pieces echoed through his ears. His knees buckled beneath him, and he found himself falling to his knees. His legs hit the bare floor with a loud thud, causing pain to jolt through his knees and thighs.

Loud sobs echoed through the room as he sat helplessly on the floor, his face between his palms. He ran a hand through his soft dyed hair for a moment, tears of distress streaming down his face.

Suddenly, the noise of the door creaking open was all he could hear. His body jolted at the sound.

She was home.

And he didn't even make her anything to eat.

Goddamit, why was he so useless?

Before he could get a chance to stand on his knees, he heard the familiar sound of heels heading towards the kitchen. The noise stopped for a moment. He tried to gather his courage to stand up once again, but his legs failed him. As if they were made of jelly. His sobs didn't help too, as he was still lightly whimpering on the floor.

The noise of the heels started again, this time heading towards him. A gentle pair of arms wrapped themselves around his torso a few moments later, and despite his loud sobs and shaking frame, his heart began racing at the thought of her holding him between her arms, and it sent butterflies through his stomach.

Her arms lingered around him, for only a few minutes, before she gathered her strength to pull him up from the floor. Without saying a word, she wrapped one arm around his small, defined waist and helped him take a few steps out of the kitchen, towards the couch in the middle of the living room that was just outside the kitchen.

"S-Sorry. I-I'm sorry..." he whispered in English, his Korean accent as strong as ever. She didn't answer but rubbed his shoulder gently to let him know that everything was okay.

She helped him sit down on the couch, ignoring his soft, quick apologies.

"I-I didn't mean to break it-" he muttered desperately between sobs. She rubbed his shoulder once again, then hurried towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Opening the tap and filling up a long glass of water, she closed the tap once again and headed towards her husband, handing him the glass in one swift movement.

He grabbed it from her hand, took a sip with his eyes half-closed, then slurped the entire glass in one, big gulp.

Damn, he was thirsty.

He handed her the glass once again, a faint, grateful smile over his pale, heartbroken face.

"Thank you..."

She nodded silently, then took the glass and set it on a nearby coffee table.

"I-I was trying to make us dinner- I-I'm sorry..." he apologized once again, bowing a little. She stared at him motionlessly before reaching out to rub his upper arm once again.

"It's okay," she assured him despite her cold tone.

She sighed and sat down beside him, which caused him to gulp, heat rushing to his pale cheeks.

"Let's order some pizza, shall we?" She offered, avoiding his gaze. He nodded, his eyes sparkling with hope. Just like his stomach was sparkling with butterflies.

"Okay..."