𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩: 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚.
In an upscale private academy known for its strict adherence to tradition and conservative dress codes, Wooyoung stands out-not just for his bright personality but for his bold fashion choices...
Two days had passed since we picked up our wedding bands, and this Saturday, we were getting married. It should have been an exciting time, but I couldn't help feeling annoyed. San had been going out with his friends, having fun, drinking, and coming back late—wasted, like a flat tire. Meanwhile, all I wanted was for us to spend time together before our big day.
I sat in our bedroom, scrolling through my phone, my irritation growing with every passing minute. I knew I might be being a bit dramatic, but it felt like he was testing me, pushing my buttons to see how far he could go. He seemed to expect me to throw myself on him when he came back, as if I'd just be waiting, but right now, I wasn't in the mood for any of that. The thought of him coming home drunk again while I was sober and feeling every bit of this pregnancy was frustrating.
I sighed, slipping off the bed and making my way downstairs to grab a cup of hot chocolate. The warmth and sweetness might help ease my mood, I thought, but I wasn't going to let San off that easily. If he thought I was going to break and let him have his way with me, he was wrong. I'd been feeling more and more bratty these days, and tonight, he was going to get a taste of that. He could sleep alone for all I cared.
As I stood in the kitchen, stirring my hot chocolate, I couldn't stop my thoughts from spiraling. It wasn't that I didn't want him to have fun with his friends—I did. But we were getting married in a couple of days, and I wanted us to be together, to focus on each other, not for him to be out drinking and coming back expecting everything to be fine.
I leaned against the counter, sipping my drink, the warmth soothing but not enough to chase away the frustration building inside me. The clock ticked, and I knew he'd be back soon, stumbling through the door like nothing was wrong. Well, this time, he was in for a surprise. Let's see how he likes sleeping alone tonight.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I imagined his reaction. I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I had been patient, but there was a limit, and he had crossed it. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just me being fed up, but I was determined to stand my ground tonight.
The sound of the front door opening echoed through the quiet house, and I tensed, knowing it was San returning. I set my mug down and crossed my arms, ready to see what excuses he had this time. The door clicked shut, followed by the familiar shuffle of his footsteps. My heart raced, not from excitement but from the annoyance simmering beneath the surface.
San stumbled into the living room, his eyes hazy from the alcohol, but the moment he saw me standing there, his face softened into a smile. "Hey, love," he slurred, reaching out to pull me into his arms. "Missed you..."
I stepped back, dodging his embrace, and his smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to steady himself, clearly not expecting my reaction.
