A cold and quite the strict boss how could someone ever fall for her? Y/N sure would never he's worked with her for years and watched every single employee get crushed under her wrath. For Y/N he's had enough working years with such a tyrant has don...
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The moment Yunjin told me about the business dinner, I could already picture the night—polished conversations, strategic handshakes, and a few hours of pretending to enjoy overpriced appetizers while trying to keep up with her fast-paced world. Despite the inevitability of it all, there was something different about this one. She wanted me to come with her, not just as her partner but as her "plus one" in the truest sense.
We'd been navigating this fake marriage for a while now, but moments like this were beginning to blur the lines. Whether we liked it or not, we were constantly stepping outside of our roles, playing into the expectations, and at times—like this one—feeling like we were something more. When she casually mentioned that she needed help finding a dress, it wasn't the sort of request that came from a business arrangement. It was more personal. It felt like she actually cared what I thought, and somehow, that made me a bit more eager to help than I'd like to admit.
We arrived at the boutique, the kind of place that whispered elegance with every inch of its decor. The warm lighting softened the space, casting a glow over the countless dresses hung like art pieces on the walls. A faint hum of classical music played in the background as the staff greeted Yunjin with the kind of respect reserved for regulars, making me feel out of place yet again. But she didn't seem to care; she was in her element, scanning through racks with a discerning eye.
"Wait here," she said, her tone clipped with focus, before disappearing behind the velvet curtain of the fitting rooms.
I found myself in an awkward limbo, surrounded by dresses I couldn't even begin to judge. What exactly made one dress better than another? They all seemed fine to me. Still, I waited, leaning against a plush chair, trying not to look like I had no idea what I was doing.
Finally, Yunjin emerged, wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. My immediate thought was that she looked amazing. The fabric clung to her body, shimmering ever so slightly in the soft light, and for a moment, I felt my throat tighten. But before I could even form a coherent compliment, she frowned at her reflection, tilting her head.
"Not the one," she muttered, more to herself than to me, before disappearing again.
I blinked, confused. Not the one? I thought she looked perfect, but apparently, her standards were on another level. Before I could process it, she came back out, this time in a grey dress. Equally stunning, equally perfect in my eyes. But once again, her dissatisfaction was evident.
"This isn't it either," she said, shaking her head as if she were critiquing a work of art that wasn't quite finished.
Dress after dress, color after color—black, grey, navy, even a soft pink. She looked breathtaking in each one, but with every outfit, her frustration seemed to grow. I wasn't sure if there was a dress in this entire place that would meet her high expectations. Meanwhile, I tried my best to offer genuine feedback, but at a certain point, I was running out of adjectives to describe how good she looked.
