HEARTS ENTWINED (A Story about two soft souls)

The Silent Strangers

The winter evening was quiet, the sun having dipped below the horizon, leaving the world cold and dark. The grand mansion stood isolated, covered in a thin layer of frost that seemed to cling to its every surface. Inside, Jimin sat in the spacious living room, the crackle of the fireplace the only sound breaking the silence. He was sipping his tea, the warmth comforting him as he stared absently at the flames.

The mansion, a luxurious gift from their parents, should have felt like a home. But it didn't. It was cold, just like his marriage with Yoongi. They had been married for six months now, a deal arranged by their families, but they were anything but close. Yoongi was always at the office, working as the CEO of his renowned company, while Jimin spent most of his days here, enjoying his winter break from his own fashion design empire.

To outsiders, their life was perfect—two wealthy men living together in a mansion fit for royalty. But the reality was starkly different. They hardly spoke to one another, and when they did, it was filled with Yoongi's cold indifference or sharp words.

Jimin placed his teacup down gently on the table and sighed. The days had turned into a monotonous blur, and despite his efforts to make the best of it, there was no warmth between him and Yoongi. No affection. Jimin had known Yoongi from their high school days, harboring a crush on him for years, though he never dared to confess. And now, after all these years, he was married to the man he once admired, but the reality was nothing like he had imagined.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open echoed through the hallway. Jimin straightened in his seat, knowing it could only be one person.

"Yoongi's home,"

 he whispered to himself, feeling the usual flutter of anxiety and disappointment in his chest.

His heart sank further when he heard another pair of footsteps, lighter, more feminine. He frowned, confused, and turned his head toward the hallway. His eyes widened as Yoongi walked in, followed by a woman. She was tall, elegant—or at least, trying to be—with long, flowing hair, and dressed in a sleek black coat, accessorized with what seemed like a designer purse and heels.

But Jimin, who had spent his life surrounded by luxury fashion, recognized it instantly. Her purse was a fake. The logo on the coat was misaligned. Even her heels, supposedly from a top brand, were cheap imitations.

"Jimin,"    Yoongi's cold voice cut through the air, startling him from his thoughts.

Jimin stood, his body stiff as he faced Yoongi and the woman beside him. 

"Yoongi... who is this?"

The corners of Yoongi's mouth twitched with the slightest hint of a smile, though it lacked any warmth. 

"This is Lia," he said,

 placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"My girlfriend."

Jimin's world seemed to tilt on its axis at those words, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. Girlfriend? The word echoed in his mind, stinging more than he wanted to admit. He should've known Yoongi had someone else. He had always suspected, but to have it confirmed now, standing in front of him so brazenly, was something else entirely.

Lia smiled at him, a saccharine expression that didn't reach her eyes. 

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said,

 her voice sugary sweet.

 "I've heard so much about you."

Jimin's mouth was dry. 

"Have you?" he muttered,

 feeling the awkwardness of the situation gnaw at him. What had Yoongi been telling her? That he was the unworthy husband forced into this marriage, spending his days lounging in luxury while his CEO husband worked hard to keep them afloat?

He didn't know what to say, how to react. So he did the only thing that came to mind.

 "Would you like some coffee?" Jimin offered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi's brows furrowed as if Jimin's question had somehow irritated him.

 "Of course," he said, his voice clipped. "Go make some."

Jimin blinked, feeling the sting of Yoongi's tone, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned on his heel and quietly made his way to the kitchen, the tension in the air thick enough to choke him. He was used to Yoongi being cold, but something about having Lia here, watching it all unfold, made the situation unbearable.

As Jimin busied himself with the coffee, his mind raced. Girlfriend? He actually brought his girlfriend home? The betrayal didn't lie in the fact that Yoongi had someone else—it was in the fact that Yoongi clearly didn't care how Jimin felt about it. He had never cared.

With shaking hands, Jimin prepared the coffee, carefully placing the cups on a tray before heading back to the living room. When he arrived, Yoongi and Lia were sitting close together on the couch, whispering to one another. The sight made his stomach twist.

"Here's your coffee," Jimin said softly, placing the tray on the table before them.

Lia smiled up at him.

 "Thank you, Jimin," she said, her voice oozing fake kindness. 

"You're so... considerate."

Jimin forced a tight smile. "You're welcome," he replied, though inside he felt like screaming.

Yoongi's eyes flicked to Jimin for a brief moment, but there was no gratitude there, only indifference. He took a sip of his coffee before turning his attention back to Lia, completely disregarding Jimin as if he weren't even in the room.

Jimin stood there awkwardly for a moment before excusing himself. He needed to get out of there. As he walked away, he could hear their quiet laughter, a sound that made his chest ache.

Back in the kitchen, Jimin leaned against the counter, staring at the floor. His hands were trembling slightly. He had known this marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement, but deep down, a part of him had always hoped that maybe—just maybe—things would change. That Yoongi might see him for who he truly was, not the shallow image he seemed to have of him.

But that hope was fading fast.

Jimin pushed himself away from the counter and headed toward his bedroom, trying to shake off the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to suffocate him. As he lay down in bed, staring at the ceiling, he wondered how much longer he could endure this.

How much longer until this marriage, this farce, finally breaks me?

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