just pretend.

2.

“Where have you been, Jisung?”, his father’s voice struck him the moment he walked through the door, heavy with suspicion and control. Jisung felt the familiar weight of his father’s gaze, an unrelenting scrutiny that made his skin crawl. He was growing tired of being questioned like a child whenever he went out on his own, even for the smallest reasons. “I went out for a while”, Jisung replied, forcing a casual tone. He could feel the tension in the air and he was not looking forward to spending time with them. “Did Mom make dinner already? If not, I can help her.” He tried to change the subject, hoping to push the conversation away from his whereabouts. Maybe, just maybe, he could avoid the inevitable interrogation. As he slipped out of his sneakers and hung his jacket on the hook by the door, he felt his father’s eyes boring into the back of his head. It was a look Jisung had come to know all too well, one that left no room for privacy or autonomy. His every move was monitored, every decision second-guessed. The silence that followed him into the kitchen was unsettling. He had missed dinner. Again. “Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling up. He turned to the sink and started washing the dishes left behind, the task a small attempt to make amends for his absence. The warm water and the smell of soap did little to ease the growing anxiety in his chest. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice his mother’s presence until she spoke. “Darling, your father and I want to talk to you once you’re done. We’ll be in the office”, her voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was an edge to it that made him flinch. Her words were always calculated, her tone sharpened like a blade. She wasn’t an ordinary housewife. Yes, she cleaned and cooked, but in their household, she wielded as much power as his father, her say was equally important in the running of the family business and its finances. There was no softness in her approach, no warmth in her concern. She was a woman of precision, and her voice could cut through paper if it was possible. “Alright”, Jisung mumbled, scrubbing the dishes at an infuriatingly slow pace. He wasn’t in a hurry to face whatever awaited him in that office. He knew his parents would scold him for missing dinner, but there was something else. A lingering feeling that something would go terribly wrong. After drying his hands, Jisung walked down the long hallway that led to the office. The house was almost completely dark, save for the light spilling out from the kitchen and the ominous glow emanating from the office door. Each step he took felt like he was walking deeper into a trap, the shadows around him stretching long against the polished floors. “Mom? Dad?” he called out softly as he approached the office door, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His hand hesitated on the door handle for just a moment, before he finally pushed it open.

“Come in, son”, his father’s voice echoed through the room, stern and composed. His father was seated behind the massive mahogany desk that dominated the room, his expression unreadable. The desk, a symbol of authority and power, seemed to dwarf everything around it. Jisung nodded, forcing his legs to move, and took the seat his father pointed to, his movements slow and heavy, as if his body was weighed down by the atmosphere. The leather chair creaked slightly as he sat, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence that followed. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to sit through whatever lecture was coming his way, but he knew better than to refuse, knowing it would make everything worse. “I’m sorry for missing dinner, it won’t happen again”, he started, hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalated. If he could just apologize and take the blame upfront, maybe they would let it go. But his father shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “It’s not about missing dinner, Jisung. Your mother and I found out where you’ve been today.” Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, and a cold wave of fear washed over him. He should have known his parents would find out sooner or later. They had eyes everywhere. His father’s harsh words felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him. “Explain to us why you visited Lee Minho at the mental hospital.” His father’s voice was laced with barely concealed anger, each word delivered with a precision that made it clear this was not a question but a demand. Jisung’s eyes darted around the room, avoiding his father’s piercing gaze. His mind raced, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t dig him deeper into trouble. He knew he had to lie. “I just wanted to see if he was okay”, he said, his voice steady despite the panic rising inside him. “He really scared me that night.” That much was true, at least. The memory of that night still haunted him, but his concern for Minho was more than just fear. It was guilt, confusion, and a desperate need to understand what had happened. His mother’s glare bore into him, and he could feel her eyes scrutinizing every inch of him as if searching for cracks in his story. “After all he’s done to us, you still wanted to check up on him?”, she asked harshly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The red blouse she wore clung to her silhouette, accentuating the cold, rigid posture she held. Her voice was sharp, cutting through his defenses with ease. Jisung nodded slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no denying that Minho had once been a big part of his life, not so long ago. Even after everything, even after Minho had broken his heart, seeing him in that hospital, broken and helpless, made something inside Jisung ache. It was a pain that he couldn’t easily push away, no matter how hard he tried. His mother’s expression hardened, and she stepped closer, her gaze locking onto his with a fierce intensity. “I didn’t think it was necessary to say, but this is the first and last time I’ll be saying this”, she began, her voice cold, sending a shiver down his spine. He had never seen her like this before. Jisung looked up, meeting her eyes, and what he saw there made his blood run cold. There was no compassion, no understanding; only disgust and disappointment. “You’ll never see him again, do you understand?” Her words were final and left no room for protest. Jisung swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to process what she was saying. He nodded, the motion small and reluctant, but he knew he had no choice. There was nothing he could do against their ultimatums. Their money, their house, their rules. He was just a puppet on a string, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. He had never had a say in his own life, not in what he was going to study, not in who he could be friends with, and certainly not in what he would do with his future. It had always been clear that he would take over the family business, that his future was already decided for him, and any attempt to deviate from that path was met with consequences he didn’t want to face. Until now. Jisung lowered his head, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He could feel the walls closing in, the room growing darker as his mother’s words echoed in his mind. There was no escape, no way out from under their control. He was trapped in a life that wasn’t his own, and the worst part was that he had no idea how to break free.