𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊

7

 Y/N'S POV-

I would never see my own apartment again.

Okay, admittedly, this one was much nicer than mine, but mine was full of the love I'd put into it. It was my safe space. It was the one place in the world I had to go to when everything felt like it was falling apart, and I could bundle under the covers and recover.

I would never have that again.

This would be my home.

A pathetic whimpering sound rose up my throat.

My gaze shot over toward Jungwon, not wanting him to hear if I was about to have another weak, emotional moment. I opened my mouth to say something to him about exploring the upper level before I remembered his words.

This was mine now.

I didn't need to explain myself to him.

Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, even if my insides felt like they were shaking, I made my way toward the staircase that led up.

It wasn't that I wanted to be in Jungkook's bedroom. In fact, it was the last place I wanted to be. But it was the only place I could see that I could escape for a little while.

I needed to get myself together.

I might have been stuck in an impossible situation, but I was not going to let Jungkook see that he was getting the better of me. I needed to wash my face. I needed to give myself a talk. And then I needed to slip behind a shield of cold face.

It was the only way I was going to make it through this wedding.

And whatever might come afterward.

Jungkook's bedroom was, essentially, good but suffocating. But the anxiety didn't build as I made my way toward the door that looked suspiciously like the same material the metal box we'd stepped into from the elevator. Because the bedroom stretched the entire width of the mansion and about a third of the length.

There was a moment of hesitation as I reached toward the handle, a part of me worried it wouldn't open without a code, and some prideful part of me not wanting to have to ask Jeon Jungwon to give it to me.

The matte black knob turned in my hand, though, and I felt a trip in my heartbeat as I pushed it open. Some twisted depth of my mind had me wondering if this was going to turn into some cheesy erotic fiction movie, He already carried handcuffs on him, after all.

But I simply walked into a bedroom.

There was the same dark wood floor and the same exposed wooden beam ceiling. The bed was enormous. It had a sturdy wood frame stained the same color as the floor and all-black bedding. Two nightstands flanked it in a matte black color. Each had a lamp.

It was clear that Jungkook slept on the side nearest to the door judging by the discarded coffee cup on the nightstand and a pair of cufflinks left sitting close enough to the edge to fall off.

I had the uncontrollable urge to go over there and push them back so they didn't fall. What did I care if he lost one of his fancy cufflinks? I wasn't supposed to be helping the man who'd ripped me off the streets and out of my old life. 

Hell, I should have been walking around the house, breaking all his mirrors and making him stumble over tables, hoping to bring some bad luck into his life.

I took a slow, deep breath, then let it out on a sigh.

The reality was, I was probably stuck with this man forever.