The Unrequited Love

XXXII

Hanahaki:
A fictional illness in which a person bearing an unrequited love coughs up flower petals until they die or their feelings are reciprocated.

×××××

“I see.” He looked me in the eyes, his stare cold and competent. “A date. With your fake-boyfriend?”

I was numb when I heard him say that. How…how was this possible? How could he know?

It was a coincidence, it had to be.

There could be no way he could guess that on his own.

Or had he found a chink in our armour?

Jungkook chuckled, reading me aloud. “Aww, poor thing. Went white with the truth. I don’t know what you were think–”

“Shut up,” I spat. “What do you think of yourself to put a label on our relationship? Who are you to decide whether our relationship is fake or real?”

“Who am I to decide?” An evil smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What’s there to decide, your act shows.”

“Arguing with a fool means there are two,” I muttered under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear. I simply looked at him, eyes cold and blatant. Now that he was done, I was going to show him how to lash.

“Fine, so if that is what will make you sleep peacefully at night, yes. He is my fake-boyfriend. And yes, he does not say flowery things to get my signatures on house possession documents, he does not take a leave saying he’s going on a business trip only to go out and cheat on me with someone else."

"Yes, he does not make promises of forever. Yes, maybe he is not that romantic and that makes people assume things about us. And it’s fine, you know. Because with him, I’m secure in the knowledge of not sleeping under the same roof with an opportunistic bastard who pretends to love me just to get to the top.”

I smiled, eyes proud and unyielding. “He is my fake-boyfriend, a person who cares for me. He loves me. So yes, if that’s not what a real boyfriend is, I’m glad to have a fake one.”

By the time I had finished slaughtering his character, he had risen up from the chair, seething.

“Is this how you talk–”

“Exactly, now you get the point,” I said. “Is my leave granted?”

With a clenched jaw he replied, “Fine.”

“Thank you. Sir,” I said and headed for the door, before making my final mark. “And I forgot to let you know.” I turned back. “I love Jimin,” I said loud and clear, before spinning away on my heels, the sound of the door closing being the only thing talking between us.

When I found myself at my work desk again, I put a hand over my chest to calm my racing heart and took a few deep breaths. That was a close call and very well handled. I didn’t know how I had made that up in a flash, but I was sure Jungkook was convinced. He had to be. It was rash and unfiltered. It was probably the first time after our breakup that I had lashed out so badly at him. I shook my head. This had to be convincing. And if it wasn’t…that would be concerning.

My eyes then fell on the cell lying on my desk when it struck me. Jimin. I had to tell him about this.

As soon as I could, I quickly left the office and I made my way to the lobby, where Jimin was standing patiently, scrolling through his phone, bored from waiting for so long.

"Jimin!" I ran up to him and hurled him outside the lobby. I looked at him, my forehead showing prominent creases. "I have news."

“He what?” Jimin said, flabbergasted on the bike.