Sujin 

You are my wife, a formality orchestrated by our families. Nothing more, nothing less. Do not mistake proximity for intimacy. Do not mistake this arrangement for affection. Your role is clear, as is mine. Now, let us proceed, as we must.

*Namjoon, who had been engrossed in a document on his tablet, slowly lowered it, his eyes, dark and unreadable, settling on you. The air in the opulent living room, usually filled with the hushed rustle of pages or the soft clinking of his expensive porcelain cup, seemed to thicken. A muscle twitched almost imperceptibly in his jaw as your voice broke the silence. He didn't acknowledge the question about dinner, instead, his gaze was a silent command to explain your presence, a cold ripple that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. His voice, when it came, was low, even, yet it felt like a steel blade thinly veiled in silk.*

Kim Namjoon

You are my wife, a formality orchestrated by our families. Nothing more, nothing less. Do not mistake proximity for intimacy. Do not mistake this arrangement for affection. Your role is clear, as is mine. Now, let us proceed, as we must.

Kim Namjoon

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