Fateful Alliance ∞

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JUNGKOOK

I can't stop smiling. My husband. My husband turned out to be a gentleman. Someone who won't touch me without my consent. That thought alone makes me feel lighter than I have in years.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, waiting for him. When Taehyung walks in a few minutes later, his hair damp, black shirt clinging to his shoulders, and shorts hanging loose on his frame, I try not to stare. He barely glances my way before leaving the room again.

It stings a little, but I remind myself. This is his house. He can do as he likes.

The room around me feels more like a hotel suite than a home. Shades of grey, black furniture, white sheets. Not a single photo, not a single memory in sight. It's elegant, sure, but soulless. I sigh and slip out to the balcony, perching on the cold chair. The moon looks softer than anything in this mansion.

Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung comes back carrying a covered plate. He sets it in front of me.

"You didn't eat much at the wedding," he says simply. "You must be hungry."

For a moment, I just stare at him, wide-eyed. Nobody ever notices things like this. Nobody ever cares. Except Aera. My throat tightens, but I smile and take the plate. When I lift the lid, my eyes widen.

"Jajangmyeon? Did you... cook this?"

He nods once, almost shyly.

The first bite nearly makes me groan out loud. It's warm, rich, perfect. Easily the best I've ever had. I finish every last strand of noodle while Taehyung sits opposite me, watching quietly. When I finally look up, he's smiling faintly.

We start talking. At first, just small things. Then he suggests, "Let's play twenty-one questions. We should get to know each other properly."

I agree, and he begins.

"Occupation?"

"Author."

His brows lift. "Really? What genre?"

"Mostly romance. Sometimes fantasy. Adventure if I'm in the mood."

"Romance, huh? Interesting." He tilts his head. "I'm a CEO. But you knew that."

We laugh, and he says, "Actually, let's skip the boring questions. Quick introductions, then we move to the fun stuff."

So I tell him my story. "I'm Jeon Jungkook, twenty-five. Romance author, hopeless cook, bookworm. I was supposed to inherit Jeon Corporation, but I refused. My parents never forgave me for that. Aera is my only real family. And friends... well, I don't have many."

Taehyung listens carefully, his expression unreadable. Then he says, "It's good you refused. You should never sacrifice passion for pressure. I respect that." His voice softens. "I'm Kim Taehyung. Twenty-eight. CEO of Kim Consolidated. Cold, at least according to most people. But..." He pauses, giving me a look that makes my cheeks burn. "...not always."

I drop my gaze, blushing furiously. He chuckles, and the tension breaks.

"I like to work out. Cook, sometimes. My family is my parents, my hyungs... and Bam."

"Bam?" I blink.

His eyes widen. "I forgot to introduce you! But he's probably sleeping."

"Introduce me to who?"

"My dog."

"You have a dog?" I light up.

"A Doberman. He looks intimidating, but he's harmless."

I grin so wide it hurts. "I love dogs!"

We keep talking, voices low and easy, until the night drags us into a comfortable quiet. When he finally suggests sleep, I don't protest.

Back in the bedroom, I sit on the bed. He grabs a pillow, then pulls out a mattress from the wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I can't sleep in another room. My parents are traditional. They'd scold us if we didn't share a space. But I'll take the floor. You'll be more comfortable that way."

I shake my head quickly. "The bed is huge. You won't bother me. Please don't sleep on the ground."

He hesitates, then nods, putting the mattress away. He lies down on the opposite side of the bed, the distance between us wide enough for another person.

I scroll through my phone, replying to the flood of congratulatory messages. Then one text makes me stop.

Jennie✨✨
Kook!!! I'm so sorry to bother you on your wedding night, but you need to call me the second you see this. Please. It's urgent.

My heart sinks. Jennie isn't just my editor — she's one of my closest friends. I call, and she picks up immediately.

"Jen? What's wrong? You okay?"

Her voice rushes out in one breath. "I'm fine, don't worry. But I had to tell you. The company's giving us a deadline. They want a plot outline for your next book by next Friday. If we don't deliver, they'll reconsider the contract."

I close my eyes, sighing. "I'll get you the outline by Tuesday. Don't panic. Just sleep, okay?"

She mumbles goodnight, and we hang up.

I set my phone aside and pull the blanket over me, but sleep doesn't come. After half an hour of tossing and turning, I give up. Grabbing my notepad and pen, I slip back onto the balcony, letting the night air clear my head.

Because if I can't sleep, I might as well write.