Unholy Marriage || minchan

30. A Masterpiece of Love

Chan

"So would you like to come with me?" Minho asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I love museums." He smiled softly and nodded.

"Then we'll meet tomorrow at the exhibition. Let's make it seem we just happen to meet there to avoid any rumours." I nodded.

--

"What are you gonna do about that employee?" My assistant said referring to the man who's hand has been broken by my beloved husband.

"Oh I already shut him down." He frowned as he followed my steps. "How?"

"With money of course." He raised a brow. "How are you so sure he won't speak up after taking the money?"

"I've sighed a contract with him. If he dared to speak, I'll sue him." He just nodded. "Also," I said still walking as he kept following behind.

"Clear my schedule from 6-8."

"Going anywhere, sir?" He asked curiosity. "Yeah. You can call it.. maybe a museum date?" I said unsure still looking in front and not at him.

"Museum date? But you hate museums."

"Indeed."

---

I adjusted my sunglasses as I stepped into the grand entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I scanned the crowd, my eyes finally settling on a familiar figure across the room.

Minho, was examining a large painting, completely absorbed. I couldn't help but smile. Minho looked particularly handsome and beautiful today, dressed in a sleek blazer and fitted jeans, his hair perfectly styled.

We had agreed to pretend this was a chance meeting, a little game to add some excitement. This "coincidental" encounter was our way of enjoying a day together without the usual fanfare.

"Minho, fancy meeting you here!" I called out, striding over with my usual confident charm.

Minho turned, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Chan! What a surprise!" He played along, his eyes twinkling. "I didn't expect to see you at a museum." Minho said as he eyed the paparazzi behind me.

"Well, I had some free time and thought I'd broaden my horizons," I replied, trying to mask my lack of enthusiasm for the arts.

In truth, I found museums rather dull, but Minho's excitement made it worth the visit.

We strolled through the galleries, side by side, admiring the artwork. Or rather, Minho admired the artwork while I admired Minho.

Every now and then, Minho would stop and explain the history or significance of a piece, his passion shining through his words. I nodded along, more captivated by Minho's animated expressions than the art itself.

"You know, this painting by Van Gogh is one of my favorites," Minho said, stopping in front of "Starry Night."

"The way he captures the swirling night sky is just mesmerizing."

I glanced at the painting, then back at Minho. "It's beautiful," I agreed, though I couldn't take my eyes off Minho. "But I think you're even more mesmerizing."

Minho chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Stop the nonsense."

"No, really," I insisted, stepping closer. "I could spend all day watching you talk about art."

Minho rolled his eyes playfully but couldn't hide his smile. "You're impossible."

As we moved on to the next exhibit, I continued to show interest in the artwork, but my true focus remained on Minho.

I loved seeing him so happy and engaged, and if it meant enduring a few hours of paintings and sculptures, it was a small price to pay.

Eventually, we found ourselves in a quieter part of the museum, away from the main crowds.

Minho paused in front of a serene landscape painting, his expression thoughtful. I took the opportunity to gently take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You know, I really appreciate you coming here with me," Minho said softly, turning to look at me. "I know museums aren't exactly your thing."

I shrugged, a tender smile playing on my lips. Was I that obvious?

"Maybe not, but you are. And seeing you happy makes it all worthwhile."

"Thank you," he whispered. "For coming here with me."

I wrapped an arm around Minho's waist, pulling him close. "Always," I murmured. "Now, lead the way and show me more of these masterpieces."

For me, it wasn't about the art on the walls, since my own husband was a masterpiece in itself.

--

Minho

It had been almost a week since our museum date. I sat at my desk, the glow of my computer screen casting a soft light over my concentrated face. I was immersed in creating a new design for a client, the details demanding my full attention.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my focused state. Glancing at the screen, I saw a notification from a news app.

The headline read: "BREAKING NEWS: CEO from the Big Three Opens Up About His Love Life in Exclusive Interview." Curiosity came through, I clicked on the article.

The video embedded in the article loaded, showing Chan. My eyes widened.

The interview started with the usual questions about Chan's career and upcoming projects.

I watched intently, a mix of pride and anxiety swirling in my chest. Then, a reporter asked the question that made my breath catch:

"Chan, can you tell us more about your love life? Are you seeing anyone special currently?"

There was a brief pause as Chan seemed to gather his thoughts. The room grew tense with anticipation, and my heart pounded in my chest.

Chan's eyes, usually so expressive, held a depth of emotion that I rarely saw in public.

"Yes, indeed. I am in love with someone," Chan said softly, his voice steady but filled with sincerity.

"They mean the world to me, and while I prefer to keep our relationship private, I want to acknowledge that they are a significant part of my life."

The room erupted in a flurry of questions and flashes from cameras, but Chan remained calm, refusing to divulge any more details.

The interview ended shortly after, leaving the reporters and viewers with more questions than answers.

I sat back in my chair, my mind racing. Was Chan talking about me? But Chan had never explicitly told me he loved me, though his actions spoke volumes, I can't make assumptions.

The implications of Chan's revelation were enormous. Our lives could change overnight if the media dug deeper and discovered the truth.

But maybe it won't. Since Chan doesn't love me. Nor he will ever. Right?