Affection's Facade

When it rains

Elera's POV:

My father had a way with words, often painting the world in poetic metaphors. "When the rain comes, it pours," he'd say, "and with it, change storms in." For a long while, I felt adrift, lost in the ambiguity of his wisdom. I had started to believe that maybe I was doomed to relive the same patterns each time life dared to shift its course. It's been two weeks since I last saw Mi-jung. Merely fourteen days, yet they stretched out, vast and unending, like an uncharted horizon. Our conversations, though relegated to the phone, became a lifeline, keeping my heart tethered amidst the tumult.

Life had smoothly resumed its monotonous cadence. Each day became a carefully rehearsed play, every movement, every utterance orchestrated to perfection to preserve the status quo. Here I was, once more, at my husband's side, surrounded by the blinding lights and the incessant river of eager reporters at another one of those lavish events. But this time, the difference was noticeable : the familiar discomfort no longer felt like rough sandpaper against my throat but more like a simmering impatience, urging the evening to hasten to its end.

The interviewer was a keen-eyed woman bearing a predatory grin. She shifted her focus to me, and I could tell from the gleam in her eyes that she had been waiting for this very moment.

"Mrs.Park," she began, her tone dripping with what came off as sweetness,you look lovely as always. How does it feel to be the wife of our mayor."

I smiled, " I feel as great as anyone would. He worked very hard so it's great that everything is coming to place."I found myself saying.

She nodded, and continued, "That's great to hear! Of course as you know everyone is always so curious about how a couple like you two came to be. We've heard you mention before how wonderfully the Park family takes care of you. Is that still true?"

I forced a smile, reminding myself to remain calm and poised. "Yes," I replied, maintaining eye contact. "The Park family has been supportive and kind."

The interviewer's smile widened, her eyes gleaming at my expense. "And how did the family feel when they discovered you were the daughter of a murderer?"

" Excuse me?" I asked softly.

" Of course you did tell them that your Sir name is Osei correct?"

The room grew silent as I stared at her.
The question caught me off guard, my heart racing as a cold dread settled in. I could feel dozens of eyes on me, waiting, expecting a reaction. But before I could formulate a response, Jae-hoon, sensing my distress, stepped in.

"I think this interview is over," he stated firmly, his voice holding a hint of distaste. He wrapped an arm around my waist protectively. "It seems you've come here with the intention of asking my wife outlandish questions."

The interviewer, clearly taken aback by his defensive stance, tried to recover, "I was just—"

Jae-hoon cut her off, "We're done here." With a final, steely glare, he led me away from the reporters, the noise, and the prying eyes.

As we retreated to a quieter corner, I took a moment to steady my breathing. I was grateful for Jae-hoon's intervention. However, that did nothing to quell the rising storm.

Because that was when it started — the headlines.

"Elera Park: Daughter of a Murderer?!" one tabloid screamed. Another headline read, "Dark Secrets of the Park Family Bride Revealed The media had caught wind of my family's past, and they were having a field day with it.

With every step I took, those words followed. From whispered conversations halted abruptly as I passed by in elegant hallways, to direct confrontations in the town's more posh locales. Speculation ran rife, questioning not just my past, but also the wisdom of the Park family's decision to ally themselves with such a "blemished" heritage. The constant buzz of my phone served as a grim reminder: from empathetic messages of support to vile accusations, the world now had an opinion about Elera Park.