Book 1
Previously named as mafias chubby bride
[𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃 ✔️] (rewriting)
Exuvia;
❝Shedding the past, being reborn into something new, even if painful.❞
He's a dangerous mafia boss.
She's a sweet, calm artist with a tender heart.
In a worl...
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★・・・・・・★
A S H L E Y
Oh, how can I ask him to buy a dress for me?
I mean, he’s… him. The man who walks like power itself, who speaks in commands, not conversations. And I? I’m just a girl caught in a marriage neither of us asked for.
Still, when he looked at me and said, “We’ll go buy one”— something fluttered in my chest. Something stupidly soft.
I looked down at my fingers, twisting them nervously. I’ve never had someone ask me what I needed… let alone offer to buy me something without complaint.
Was this kindness? Or just a duty he was trying to fulfill?
Either way, his words lingered. And so did the warmth in my cheeks.
Well, I stood ready, waiting for him.
Wearing a quite decent dress that reached below my knees—floral, with soft sleeves ending just above my elbows. It was white… a sharp contrast to my warm, tan skin. I was on the tanned side, especially when compared to the pale beauty standards here in Korea.
And maybe that was one of the reasons I was always… overlooked. Discriminated against.
Not fair enough to be admired. Not slim enough to be loved. Just generalized as dirty.
I wonder if Jungkook ever noticed. Men always looked at me from head to toe in this city, trying to comprehend just how ugly one could be. For them, I was beyond fat—obese, unworthy of even basic kindness and it almost made me laugh.
Because they weren’t that great either—but judging women? That was their favourite sport. Here in Korea, men rarely liked overweight women. And if you're part of a chaebol family—a hidden mafia empire? Then you’re expected to be a trophy wife. Always presentable. Always flawless.
Not my words. My mother’s.
“You have nothing to be proud of. Try to do something that won’t make your husband ashamed.”
Her voice still echoes in my head. And maybe she was right.
I never had anything to be proud of. Just my countless paintings—my only escape, my only voice—now lying in a locked room. Sometimes I wonder… should I ask Jungkook to hold an exhibition for them?
When I once asked my father, he laughed. Then he gave away all my art pieces as business gifts to his friends. Without my consent. Without even asking if it was okay.
