One-shots (Jensoo)

Arranged (1)

The grand, ornate hallway of their shared home always felt too quiet, too vast for Jennie. It had been like this for three months now, since the day she'd walked down an aisle towards a woman she knew only by name and family legacy.

Jisoo.

The name felt a little more familiar on her tongue now, less like a stranger's, but still not entirely her own.

Jennie's parents, successful and stoic, had forged their own path through a similar arranged marriage. Affection was a whispered secret in their household, never an openly expressed emotion.

Dinners were quiet affairs, filled with the clinking of cutlery and the rustle of newspapers, punctuated by polite, formal inquiries. Jennie had learned early that this was how love manifested, a quiet accord, a shared responsibility, a life built side-by-side without the messiness of overt emotion.

Yet, a quiet yearning had blossomed in her heart, a secret wish to break that generational silence, to find a different kind of warmth in her own marriage. That's why she tried.

Every morning, she'd linger a moment longer in the kitchen, pouring a second cup of coffee she didn't quite need, just to offer it to Jisoo. "Coffee?" she'd ask, her voice always a little flat, betraying none of the internal debate that went into the simple word.

Jisoo, usually already dressed in sleek office wear, would turn from the counter, a faint, polite smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Jennie." Her eyes, dark and expressive, would momentarily meet Jennie's before drifting away, as if searching for something behind the cold, composed facade. Jennie saw the slight hesitation in those eyes, the wariness that mirrored her own.

They were two strangers thrust into an intimacy they hadn't chosen. Their shared bed remained a chasm, Jennie preferring the cool solitude of her own side, a silent boundary maintained by unspoken agreement. Yet, she found herself observing Jisoo, trying to decipher the unwritten language of this new person in her life.

Jisoo had a gentle laugh that rarely escaped her in Jennie's presence, but Jennie had overheard it once, echoing from the garden when Jisoo was on a phone call. It had been soft, melodic, and entirely captivating.

"How was your day?" Jennie would ask over dinner, her gaze fixed on the perfectly arranged salmon on her plate, rarely meeting Jisoo's. It felt safer that way, less revealing.

Jisoo would pause, often chewing slowly. "Productive. A new campaign proposal was approved." Her answers were always concise, informative, but never went beyond the surface. "And yours?"

"Meetings. Paperwork," Jennie would reply, equally brief. It felt like an interrogation, not a conversation. And yet, she persisted. She bought Jisoo's favorite Earl Grey tea when she went grocery shopping, leaving it prominently on the kitchen counter without comment. She noticed the way Jisoo's shoulders slumped slightly after a particularly long day, and would discreetly leave a warm bath drawn for her, the scent of lavender filling the air. She never mentioned it. Jisoo never acknowledged it verbally, but the slight relaxation in her posture the next morning was thanks enough for Jennie.

Jisoo, meanwhile, interpreted Jennie's reserved nature differently. "She probably despises me," Jisoo confided in her best friend, Rosé, over the phone, her voice a low murmur, careful not to be overheard. "She's so... proper. And I'm just... me. I try to talk, but her eyes just glaze over. She tolerates me because she has to." It was a quiet ache, a gnawing uncertainty in her gut.

She'd heard stories of arranged marriages that blossomed, but theirs felt more like a polite stalemate. Still, Jisoo was committed. Their families expected it. And a tiny, foolish part of her hoped that beneath Jennie's icy exterior, there was something. Something she could reach.