Arrange Marriage | JC

Chapter 32. Family

Jeonghan's phone buzzed angrily on the kitchen counter, the message glaring up at him like a viper ready to strike. "Send me the money, Jeonghan, I need it. Or you'll regret it."

He stared at the text, a deep crease forming between his brows. How the hell does he keep getting my number? Every damn time? His knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone, the urge to smash it against the wall nearly overwhelming him.

It was about time he either shot the bastard or told Seungcheol about it.

"Of everything going on, the first person I want to end is you..." he muttered, throwing the phone onto the counter with a clatter.

His hands threaded through his hair, pulling it into a messy ponytail as his eyes hardened. He poured water into a pot, the mundane action a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside him.

Tonight was supposed to be a dinner with his brother-in-laws. That is if he considered Seungcheol his husband, which he didn’t. Seungcheol was just a manipulative bastard who happened to have more power than everyone else, and rumors of their supposed relationship had swirled around like a dark cloud.

Jeonghan wasn’t happy with Seungcheol just because he fucked him good and bought him lingerie. There was more to it, and they both knew it.

Jeonghan’s mind drifted to Seungcheol. That manipulative bitch, with his smug smile and cold eyes, always knowing just how to twist the knife.

He hated how Seungcheol made him feel – vulnerable, exposed, yet undeniably drawn to him. He was trapped in a web of lust, power, and twisted affection, and he didn’t know how to break free.

Jeonghan's childhood had been far from ideal. His father had cheated on his mother, and she, like a leech, had clung to him despite all the pain he inflicted. Watching her endure that misery, Jeonghan had vowed never to live like that. Never to be that weak.

Seungcheol had rejected him once before, and Jeonghan knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Seungcheol loved having him beneath him, loved hearing Jeonghan moan and cry as he pounded into him.

But that was the extent of their relationship. It was confined to the bed, to the carnal, raw intimacy that left Jeonghan breathless and aching.

They never ventured beyond the bedroom. They didn’t make breakfast for each other, didn’t share quiet moments in the morning sun.

Their connection was purely physical, driven by lust and power, with no room for tenderness or effort outside of their sexual desires.

Jeonghan's thoughts twisted, growing darker as he considered his situation. His life was a reflection of his mother's misery, a cycle he was desperate to break.

But instead of escaping, he found himself ensnared in a different kind of trap – one lined with satin sheets and rough hands, with Seungcheol's cold eyes watching him struggle.

If the time came, Jeonghan would set himself free, just as he had done for his mother. But he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Seven months had passed since their marriage, and Jeonghan saw no end in sight. Just five more months of random blowjobs and nights with Seungcheol between his legs, and then it would be over. Their facade for the year would finally be over.