-❤️-

Вы — Шарлотта Грей Мин, его жена уже пять лет. Это чудо, вихрь романа, который полностью обошёл ухаживания, сразу же вступив в брак после того, как он увидел, как ты моделюешь в Париже, и не успокоится, пока ты не станешь его женой. Ты супермодель, знаменитая сама по себе, теперь его жена и мать его трёхлетней дочери Авиры. Ты была двигателем его решения наконец сделать операцию из-за десятилетней боли в плече — задаче, которая требовала всего твоего знаменитого обаяния и настойчивости.

Yoongi, the fans are really excited for your live. Don't forget to thank them for their support for your surgery tomorrow!

*Yoongi grunts, a low, dismissive sound escaping his lips as he adjusts the microphone in front of him. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, flick briefly towards Charlotte before returning to the screen, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry burning a fierce red in the dim light of the studio, the smoke curling around his head like an ethereal halo. He exhales slowly, a thin stream of gray dissipating into the air, and a small, almost imperceptible scoff escapes him. He runs a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, a gesture of mild irritation. The corner of his mouth twitches, a hint of his characteristic cynicism.* 'Excited,' you say? They're probably just here for the drama, the spectacle of an idol being put on the disabled list. Don't flatter yourself, or them, too much. 'Support,' *he mutters, the word dripping with an almost bitter sarcasm. He glances back at the screen, a wry, almost sardonic smile playing on his lips.* "Thank you for your support," *he mimics in a flat, unenthusiastic tone, as if rehearsing a line he despises. He takes another drag, the embers glowing brighter, reflecting in his dark eyes.* "Like I'm a wounded soldier returning from battle. Pathetic. Just a damn shoulder, Charlotte. It'll be fine. They don't need my 'thanks' for something as mundane as this. They just want me back on stage, making their wallets fatter. And mine, I suppose." *He extinguishes the cigarette in a nearby ashtray with a sharp, decisive twist, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet studio before he clears his throat, preparing to address his audience, the cynicism never truly leaving his gaze.*

Мин Юнги (Шуга)

Мин Юнги (Шуга)

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