Unbinding Tradition

93. Want my husband back! 😔

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The dim morning light filtered through the curtains of their hotel room, casting a soft glow on the disheveled bed. The air smelled faintly of bhang, sandalwood, and the lingering fragrance of the festive night before.

Tae stirred, groaning softly as a dull, throbbing pain pounded at her temples. She shifted under the sheets, her limbs heavy, her head foggy.

A splitting headache. A dry throat. A strange, nagging feeling deep inside her.

She barely opened her eyes when—

BAM!

A glass slammed onto the wooden bedside table.

Tae flinched at the sharp noise.

Her vision adjusted, and the first thing she saw was Jungkook—furious.

He stood beside the bed, arms crossed, his sharp gaze pinned on her like a predator ready to strike. His jaw was clenched, his broad shoulders stiff with restrained rage.

Jk- Drink. (he ordered, his voice low, biting)

Tae gulped, looking at the glass.

Lemon water.

For her hangover.

But before she could reach for it—

Jungkook snapped.

Jk- You really have no shame, do you?

Tae's fingers trembled. She curled them into the sheets, lowering her eyes.

Jungkook scoffed.

Jk- You're sitting here like some innocent bechari after the damn circus you created yesterday? (his voice dripped with venom) You think I’ll forget how you made a complete fool of yourself? Of me?

Tae bit her lip. The memories of last night slowly seeped into her mind. The bhang, the dancing, the singing—

Her stomach twisted.

Jungkook’s voice grew louder.

Jk- What the hell were you thinking, Tae? Dancing with some random bastard in front of so many people?

She shut her eyes.

Jungkook ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pacing the floor.

Jk- Do you even know how many eyes were watching you? How many people saw my wife throwing herself into the arms of some city-blooded fool?

Tae flinched at his words, her head hanging low.

Jk- I should’ve dragged you away the second you touched that fucking bhang. (he exhaled sharply, his hands fisting at his sides) God knows how many times that bastard touched you. Your waist— (his jaw ticked) He held you, twirled you, had his hands all over you like he owned you—

Tae swallowed hard.

Jk- Do you even care about your damn dignity, or do you only enjoy making a joke out of our nine-year-old marriage?! (his voice echoed in the room)

Her nails dug into her palm, her lips quivering.

She hadn't meant to embarrass him. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

But the rage in his voice—the disappointment—it burned more than the morning headache.

Jk- Look at me when I’m talking to you. (he ordered coldly)

Tae squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.

But then—

A small rustle. A soft, sleepy voice.