Mr and Mrs Sim ⋆ s.jake

Chapter 37

Heeseung's POV

Take me back to the day I met her.

To the moment when my life wasn't weighed between a life sentence and death. To the exact second my eyes locked with hers for the first time, piercing through the animosity of those chocolate irises like a needle under the skin—soft, painful, yet lovingly.

"Guess what, Lee Evan," the warden's gruff voice called out, his nightstick tapping against the bars like a relentless warning. I grunted, keeping my eyes closed and my head propped against the cold wall behind me. "You're getting a new cellmate here in a minute—he's in for organ trafficking, so good luck keeping yourself in one piece until tomorrow."

Luck doesn't give a single shit about me.

"Okay."

And as my mind slowly drifted back to the sensation of her body against mine, her lipstick melting into my skin, and the pain of her teeth sinking into my neck. A fucking starved vampire. The introduction of this organ player into my cell went by the wayside.

It wasn't until I heard the distinct sound of handcuffs being removed, the key turning in the lock, and two mocking laughs echoing down the endless corridors that I finally paid attention to him. I forced my eyes open, my abs twitching painfully as I pushed myself up for a better look at my one-night stand—my first and last cellmate before the trial.

He didn't just look rich; he was. His perfume reeked of overprice, his clothes looked freshly picked up from the dry cleaner's, and the glasses slipping down the tip of his nose were from an Italian designer. His features were sharp, but not as sharp as his jaw, and he had a furrowed brow, as if wondering what the hell I was staring at.

"Lee Evan."

"Park Jongseong."

I smirked, then closed my eyes again, eager to slip back into my daydream. But this time, the play button wouldn't work. Could he read my mind? Could he see right through the illusion of my desire to one day be Rose's man, laid bare like an open book?

"If you try to steal an organ from me, I'll kill you, man. Or I'll break that jaw like I broke that son of a bitch Warner's—one good hit, and you'll be stuttering for the rest of your fucking life," I warned, my tone calm, muscle memory kicking in as my fist swung through the air, replaying the blow that took down Warner's pride.

"Listen to me, Evan, because I won't say it twice," Park snapped. "I'm an innocent man, and I refuse any lawyer's defense. Do you get the nuance? Huh? I don't want your fucking organs, or anyone else's, but I'll make sure the sentence of some sick bastard who messed with them is sealed. So keep your threats to yourself," he spat harshly, then dropped onto the bed opposite mine.

"Did I ask?"

I think I heard the cynical creak of his bones as he clenched his jaw. His nerve impressed me. My attention was piqued, and with the near certainty that he wasn't trying to make me his enemy, I knew the next few hours were bound to be interesting.

When I spoke again, I eyed him coolly, like he was a dangerous hornet on a red rose. "You're in jail, and you're telling me you're innocent? Jesus Christ. You're gaslighting yourself. Get some help, 'cause I'm not gonna be your therapist."

"I'm not..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was wrongly accused, but forget it. You're not very composed for a guy whose trial is tomorrow."