Owning You - A Na Jaemin Fanfic

76. The Ideal Guy

HAERI

My in-laws are having a party this evening, and Jaemin and I are going together.

I dress in a black, sleeveless dress with a scooped neckline. I twist my hair into a ponytail and fasten it with a red bow, then head out of the bathroom.

Jaemin is knotting his tie in front of the mirror. He slides his gaze to me, and his eyes warm with appreciation.

"Very pretty." He gives his tie a final pull, then comes over to press a kiss against my lips. "Pretty Haeri."

My heart flutters. He looks incredibly handsome in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt, the knot of his tie nestled against the column of his throat. I watch as he shrugs into his suit jacket, checks for his wallet, fastens his watch - all those easy, deft movements that have become so familiar to me.

We navigate clusters of people, the women all decked out in sparkly gowns, the men in expensive suits and ties. We greet Jaemin's parents, and drift in and out of conversations with other guests. My parents are here, too. My mother is smiling regally like a queen, inclining her graceful head graciously toward a group of women, all elegantly dressed, members of her Reading Society, I presume. Or the Historical Society. My father is standing too close to a young woman in a tight red dress, whispering something in her ear. She seems familiar, as if I have seen her somewhere before. She steps into the light, and I recognize her. Mrs. Kwang. Or is it Mrs. Hwang? One of my mother's friends, and a member of her Women's Club. My father seems to be having a grand time, flirting with her. She is laughing, and she stretches out a hand, resting her fingers lightly on his black-suited arm. I look at my mother. She is watching my father and the laughing woman. Her friend. Her ex-friend, now, judging by the tightness of my mother's mouth. My father continues to flirt and the woman continues to laugh and my mother continues to watch them.

My heart clenches, and I feel that familiar tightness in my gut. I hate my father. I hate my father for humiliating my mother. And I hate myself for not being able to do a damn thing about it.

I do what I always do. What I have always done, since the day I turned eleven, and finally understood why my father was seldom at home, and why my mother sobbed quietly for hours behind a locked door.

I pretend I am blind and deaf and mute. And then I walk away to the other side of the ballroom. As far away as I can, to put as much distance as I can between myself and my father and my mother and the ashes of their empty, broken marriage.

And then I hear my name, low across the marble floor.

I look up, and it's him.

It's Jaemin, walking across the ballroom, toward me, like a dream. He's smiling at me and I've never seen him looking more handsome.

"Are you all right?" he says, peering into my face. He runs a finger gently down my face. "Haeri?"

"I'm fine now," I swallow. "Now that you're here."

Amid the hum of chatter, even as I skim the surface of my brain, mouth questions and answers, even as the wine flows and the voices drone, I am aware only of him, my Jaemin, my rock. Standing so tall and solid and steady beside me, his hand resting lightly, possessively on the small of my back, his fingers brushing against mine occasionally.

He's talking intently to a grey-haired, middle-aged man, and frowning at something the man says. But then he looks up and his dark eyes meet mine, and his whole face breaks into a smile. A true, affectionate smile, which makes him seem like a different person.

When I first knew Jaemin, I thought he was cold and indifferent, scarily aloof, or, mostly disapproving. The first time he smiled at me, my heart quaked. The first time he really, really laughed, my heart swelled.