#2 in fanfiction🏅
𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗙𝗜𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
'𝘼𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣'
Kim Y/n was meant to be a leverage, an arranged bride offered to the Ko...
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The wedding being held at my father's estate was Taehyung's idea.
The property is massive, with its own ballroom. That was my mother's favorite place to entertain before my father sent her away.
The drive to my father's doesn't take long. I chose to be driven instead of driving myself—not out of nerves, just practicality.
The new doorman barely gets a word out before I'm led inside.
My father greets me with open arms, Jimin standing beside him, looking surprisingly well-rested for a man who spent the night drinking.
"Jungkook, today's the big day, how do you feel?" My father taps me on the back, throwing an arm around my shoulders as best he can given my height.
"I'm ready," I say simply.
He steers me toward the ballroom, Jimin following in our wake.
As we make our way through the grand foyer, I can't shake the feeling of apprehension that gnaws at me.
The marble floors gleam under the soft glow of the chandeliers, but my steps feel heavy, weighed down by the burden of my impending marriage.
My father leads the way, his strides confident and purposeful. The ballroom doors swing open, revealing a controlled chaos of final touches.
Servers move swiftly, adjusting linens, setting out crystal, perfecting every detail.
The air is thick with the scent of lilies— Y/n's favorite.
I'd chosen them to appease her, but now, they serve as a reminder of what's coming. Of what I'm about to step into.
My father gestures toward the scene with a satisfied smile.
"Isn't it magnificent, Jungkook? Your mother would've been proud." I nod, but my mind is elsewhere.
The grandeur of it all only sharpens the unease clawing at my gut.
Y/n may be young, beautiful, the perfect bride on paper—but she'll be a target, just like my mother was. Just like every woman tied to men like us.
A cold thought settles in my chest.
This could be a mistake.
We step into the gardens, where the greenery stretches wide, lush and endless. T
he aisle is laid out before us, dressed in satin ribbons and scattered with petals from my mother's favorite roses.
The sight of it is... daunting. Gardeners work tirelessly on the flower arrangements, their hands moving with practiced ease, weaving stems and blossoms together.
"Your bride's here already," my father says, voice laced with amusement.
"Her mother and sister are getting her ready in your room."
