Y/n hurried down the stairs, her breaths uneven, her legs trembling. Her face was pale, and her forehead glistened with sweat. She clenched her hands tightly to stop them from shaking as she entered the lounge and sank into a chair. Her body stiffened, and she kept her gaze low, avoiding everyone's eyes.
Mrs. Park noticed her unusual demeanor and asked, her voice gentle but concerned, "Is everything alright, Y/n?"
Y/n flinched at the question, her pulse racing. Her lips parted, but words seemed to fail her. After a moment of struggle, she stammered, "Y-Yes, everything is f-fine."
Mrs. Park’s brows furrowed at the obvious contradiction between Y/n's words and her trembling form. Y/n’s mother, now equally concerned, leaned closer. "Why do you look so scared then?" she asked, her voice a mix of worry and suspicion.
Y/n’s throat tightened. She shook her head quickly and whispered, "No, I-I’m not afraid."
But her quivering voice betrayed her. The images of the room upstairs flashed in her mind—the cold gaze, the gun pressed against her stomach, the closeness that left her breathless. She could still feel his intense presence, his smirk, his whispered word: Petal.
Her mother wasn’t convinced, but before she could probe further, a maid entered the lounge, bowing politely. "Mrs. Park, we’ve set the dinner table."
Mrs. Park smiled warmly, trying to lighten the mood. "Thank you. Let's have dinner," she said, gesturing for everyone to move toward the dining room.
Y/n hesitated but followed, her steps hesitant, her heart still racing.
The dining table was lavishly set, filled with an assortment of dishes that smelled delicious, but Y/n’s appetite was nowhere to be found.
Everyone took their seats, laughter and chatter filling the room. Mr. Park and Y/n’s father continued their animated conversation, their voices booming with joy. Mrs. Park occasionally chimed in, her elegance and grace evident in her demeanor.
Y/n, however, was lost in her thoughts, barely aware of the food placed in front of her. Her hands rested in her lap as she stared at her plate, her mind replaying the encounter upstairs.
Who is he? she thought, her heartbeat quickening again. Why did he do that? Why didn’t I scream?
Her chest tightened with every memory, but she tried to shake it off, reminding herself she was now in a room full of people. Yet, the shadow of his smirk and his piercing eyes lingered in her mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
"Y/n, aren’t you eating?" her mother asked, breaking her trance.
She blinked and quickly picked up her fork, forcing a small, awkward smile. "I-I am. Just a little tired, that’s all," she said softly.
Her mother frowned slightly but didn’t press further, turning her attention back to the conversation at the table.
Y/n glanced around, her gaze briefly meeting Mrs. Park’s kind eyes before she looked away again. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted her fork to take a bite, her mind still clouded with fear and confusion.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that the one who caused her fear wasn’t far away—that his presence was still lingering somewhere in the house, waiting.
The clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation filled the dining room, but suddenly the sound of footsteps broke through the chatter. Everyone's attention shifted toward the entrance, and Y/n’s heart skipped a beat.
When she looked up, she saw him—Park Jimin. He had changed into casual clothes, his sharp features softened only slightly by his laid-back attire. Despite the change in appearance, there was no mistaking the intensity in his demeanor.
YOU ARE READING
𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 (𝑱𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒇)✓
Romance(Editing is going on) Y/n marries for her father's happiness but she doesn't know that her husband is a mafia. She also had a boyfriend in the past. What will happen when both of them find out about each other's secret? It's just a fanfiction.
