I Write.

You fight back the tears, but your bottom lip trembles, as you wrap your arms around the short woman. You sniffle. “Not as much as I’m going to miss you.”

“Oh, Cyn, look at what you’ve done,” Stanley chastises, his own voice thick with tears. He clears his throat and swipes at his eyes when he thinks you’re not looking. “You’ve gone and made her cry before her shift even starts.”

“Oh, please,” Cynthia sniffs, pulling out of the embrace and motioning toward the lockers. “Like all the balloons weren’t going to do that anyway.”

You offer a watery smile, opening your arms for Stanley, who hesitates only a moment before pulling you into a hug of his own.

“You’re like family, girl,” he mutters, rubbing your back. “If you ever need anything--”

“You’ll be the first person I call,” you confirm, feeling like this is more than just a ‘goodbye for now’. Your heart aches at the thought of making it through your entire shift. If the night continues this way, you know you’ll barely make it to 7pm before you have another meltdown. 

You don’t want to leave them, don’t want to say goodbye, but who knows where you’ll be in a few months time? Who knows if you’ll ever actually see them again? The Jeons have such high standards for work and public image, surely their standards for dining out are just as high.

“Why don’t you freshen up and get ready for your shift, dear?” Cynthia suggests, pulling you from your troubled thoughts with a touch to your shoulder. “There will be plenty of time for proper goodbyes later.”

You nod quietly and swipe at your eyes, ducking into the restroom to touch up your makeup before putting your stuff in your locker. You stare at yourself in the mirror by the lockers, tears unmistakeable in your eyes.

After tonight, you can kiss your past and your independence goodbye. You will no longer be Y/N, Trinity waitress. You will be Y/N, unemployed and betrothed to Jeon Jungkook.

You sniff and shake it off the best you can. There’s no use crying over it anymore. Your tears won’t change a thing. You have to accept your fate, you have to get yourself through this. 

Pushing your shoulders back in false bravado, you tie your hair up into a tight ponytail and head out to the floor, mentally preparing yourself for what will probably be the hardest night of your life.

***

“Ankles crossed, back straight, chest out!”

You breathe evenly through your nose, but do as you’re told, glare never leaving the stern woman in front of you. The woman, hair pulled up into a tight bun, doesn’t seem fazed by your behavior, pacing in front of you in a neatly pressed skirt suit. Her black high heels click across the tiled flooring, calculating eyes moving across your body like it’s somehow offensive.

She steps forward abruptly and grasps your chin, forcefully moving it higher. “Chin up and straight forward.”

Click. Click. Click.

You follow her with your eyes, feeling more than a little foolish. You weren’t aware there was anything wrong with the way you sit, but according to Mr. Jeon, you have the ‘proper etiquette’ all wrong. Hence the lessons from the loudest Russian woman you’ve ever met in your life, Isla.

And here you thought your last night of waitressing was the hardest night of your life…

Of course, that night had been hard, with plenty of tears and even a few surprises from regulars who bought you parting gifts and hotteok. But this?

You refrain from rolling your eyes and keep your shoulders back, despite the slight ache developing in your lower back. You’re not sure how long you’ve been at this, but it’s been long enough for your muscles and joints to stiffen up on you. Your hips ache so much you’re not so sure you’d be able to walk correctly if you were to get up.

“Hands folded delicately in your lap.”

You follow the woman’s instructions, but according to Isla, you’re not delicate enough. The woman huffs in annoyance and grabs your hands, positioning them firmly on your lap, one on top of the other.

Your shoulders fall forward in defeat. Nothing you do is right for this woman.

“Shoulders back!” Isla barks, hands tightly gripping your shoulders and forcing them back.

You grit your teeth and glare at the woman’s face so close to your own, wanting nothing more than to swing your head forward into the woman’s obnoxious mouth. The urge surprises you a little, but you’ve had about enough of this.

“What’s going on in here?”

Jungkook’s voice echoes around the large parlor and when you look at him, you see his arms crossed tightly over his chest, deep frown pulling at his lips.

Isla steps away with a scowl, waving her arms around like a madwoman. “I’ll tell you what’s happening! This girl is stubborn. She’s not capable of following simple instructions. It’s like she was raised by wolves!”

Jungkook’s expression morphs into something you don't quite recognize and his chest rises and falls in a deep breath. He levels Isla with a stare, not having glanced in your direction once, and nods. “If that’s how you feel, Isla, then perhaps that should be all for today.”

Isla narrows her eyes. “I get paid for the full hour.”

Hang on, does that mean it hadn’t even been an hour?

Jungkook is silent for a moment, then nods. “You do.”

“Good,” Isla spits, snatching her coat off the rack and waving a hand in the air. “I’m done with her until she learns better control.”

Jungkook bows his head as Isla walks by him, staring intently at the floor, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve somehow disappointed him. That you’ve somehow failed him.

You’re not used to this though. You’re not used to having someone controlling your life, your every move. Does it really matter if your chest is pushed out and your hands are folded in your lap just so? If so, you’re not sure you’ll ever be good enough for the Jeons.

“Jungkook, I’m sor--” you begin, voice small and quiet even to your own ears.

“Did she hurt you?”

You stop mid-sentence, surprised. “What?”

He looks up at you, expression unreadable as his eyes meet yours. He repeats himself more slowly. “Did she hurt you?”

You relax your back and shoulders, feeling somehow small at this moment. You shake your head. “No.”

Jungkook observes you, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat and straighten your back again. He nods once. “Good.”

He removes his eyes from you. “Dinner is served. Wash up and meet us in the dining room. Our fathers have things to discuss.”

You swallow and mutter an ‘okay’ under your breath, watching him go.

You’re confused by his sudden coldness, wondering if he truly meant what he said the other night about taking care of you or if it was all for show to make you feel better...to make you trust him. Perhaps...perhaps he’s more upset about you failing your lessons than you think. Perhaps he really is like his father.

You sigh and rise to your feet, removing the gloves from your hands and putting them delicately on the armchair. You do what you’re told and freshen up in the powder room before joining the men at the dining room table. 

You takes your place beside Jungkook, with Mr. Jeon sitting at the head of the table this time in their home and your father sitting across from you. The seating arrangement is a power play you recognize, letting both you and your father know whose opinion truly holds weight in this household.

“It is my impression that the girl’s gown has been chosen,” Mr. Jeon comments lightly, glancing your way.

You take a sip from your water glass and nod your head. “Yes, sir.”

He smiles, gaze drifting to his son across from him. “I’ve been assured that it is suitable for a queen.”

Jungkook returns his father's smile and reaches for your hand on the table. He holds it lightly in his, touch so gentle you can barely feel his fingers against your palm. “I would expect nothing less for my bride.”

His father hums. “My thoughts exactly.” He finally turns his attention to your father, who’s been sitting rather quietly, staring down at the salad on his plate. “And Henry, you must be so happy to be giving your daughter away this weekend.”

Mr. Jeon’s tone of voice tells you what you already know, that he’s taking great pleasure in this little business agreement. That he’s enjoying watching Henry squirm over his failed business ventures, that he’s thrilled to be taking his daughter away from him and merging their companies together.

Not only will Mr. Jeon be your father-in-law, he’ll be your father’s boss as well. The greed of the man is unbelievable.

Henry glances at your hand in Jungkook’s and frowns. “She will make a beautiful bride.”

“She will,” Mr. Jeon agrees, greedy eyes moving over your body. “Such a shame there won’t be time for a honeymoon.” His gaze pauses once more on your chest and he sighs sadly. “What with all the business that needs to be taken care of and all.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand gently and offers you a small smile. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to celebrate.”

Mr. Jeon smirks, settling back in his chair and taking a long sip of his wine. “I’m sure you will, son.”

You swallow hard at that, averting your gaze to the food that you’ve hardly touched. You know Jungkook said he never takes what isn’t willingly given, but surely there are some expectations as his wife. Your stomach churns at the thought.

“If you don’t mind me interrupting,” Henry interjects, casting a sympathetic look your way before turning his attention to Mr. Jeon. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to discuss?”

“Ah,” Mr. Jeon nods and clears his throat, sitting forward. “There is.”

The two dive into conversation about the wedding ceremony, the logistics and the reception, speaking as if it’s nothing but business. Perhaps it is. Soon after, they dive further into your role as Jungkook’s wife, your responsibilities, and the expectations your father will have placed on him at the company.

It’s a long, drawn-out conversation that you can’t help but tune out. You can barely even stomach the details of your own wedding. At this point, you don't care how it’s going to happen, only that it will and you have no say in it at all.

As you pick at your food, you feel Jungkook’s hand tighten around yours and glance up at him. He offers you a small, gentle smile and glances at his father quickly before bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mutters for only you to hear. 

His eyes are sincere when they meet yours and you can’t help but hope that he’s right, that everything really will be okay. Because, at the moment, absolutely nothing about this feels okay.

The charming tone of your fiancé’s (could you call him that?) voice catches you off guard and you spin to face him, one of his hands coming to your elbow to steady you. He’s wearing a neatly pressed suit, no doubt worth more than you make in a week waitressing, his hair smoothed back, and a gold watch shining on his thin wrist.

He offers you a small smile, nodding hello to some of the men passing by. They, in turn, give you an appreciative onceover, gaze lingering on your cleavage and legs. You’ve never felt more objectified in your life than in this room.

Seeing your discomfort, Jungkook drops his hand to hold yours and squeezes your fingers. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Please ignore our colleagues. It’s been a while since they’ve seen anyone as young as one of their daughters at one of these things.”

If he’s trying to make you feel better...he fails. You force a smile and glance away, eyes sweeping the room for a waiter so you can grab a glass of water.

“Please tell me you’re not mapping an escape route,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing you with what appears to be genuine concern.

You sigh, feeling yourself relax a little when he starts to thumb circles over the back of your hand. “It’s still early…” You joke, smile small. “I’m just looking for a glass of water.”

“Is that all?” he questions, holding his glass in the air. A man holding a platter is by his side in an instant, eager for direction. “Get my fiance a glass of sparkling water, please. And a refill of white wine for me.”

He hands the man his empty glass, never moving his eyes off you, taking your other hand in his. He pulls you closer with a grin. “All you had to do was ask.”

You sigh, a little uncomfortable with the forced affection. “You’ve been busy.”

He frowns, threading his fingers through yours. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been left on your own a lot tonight.” 

He grabs your water when the waiter returns and hands it to you before taking his wine. He tugs lightly on your other hand, nodding toward a door across the room. 

“Let’s remedy that, shall we?”

You frown. “Won’t your father be angry you left the party?”

Jungkook snorts into his wine, rolling his eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

You follow closely after him, holding his hand tighter as he weaves through the crowd. “How can you be so sure?”

He turns to you suddenly, making you gasp and jostle your glass of water. He smirks and ducks his head down to your ear, breath warm against your skin. “I promise you, I wouldn’t steal you away if I thought he’d give a damn. Besides, he’s too busy fucking the help upstairs to notice.”

You feel like the breath gets punched from your gut. He’s – with all these people here? You feel your mouth go dry for a whole new reason as Jungkook continues to lead you toward the door. The way his father treats women...it bothers you. The objectification alone is something you’re used to as a waitress, but the belief they can have whatever they want whenever they want it?

Ugh.

Jungkook pushes through the double doors, out onto a balcony and gently closes the doors behind them. It’s cool outside, but it’s quieter out here, separated from the boisterous chatter and light music playing in the parlor. And away from the prying eyes of filthy businessmen.

You step toward the railing, Jungkook releasing your hand as you do, and lean against it. You gaze out at the city, the dark blue sky spattered with the twinkling lights of Seoul in the distance.

Jungkook steps up beside you, shoulder brushing yours, and stares out at the silhouettes of the trees. “Could I ask you something?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the jagged profile of his face, the shadows that fall over his cheeks. “Yes?”

He stares forward for a moment, eyebrows dipping and lips pressing into a firm line. Eventually, he turns his head to you. “When my father said you’d have to quit your waitress job…”

Your heart sinks and you duck your head, a little ashamed at your outburst the other night. Not that you’re any more okay with quitting your job, you just wish...well, you wish a lot of things.

He turns to you, finger tucking beneath your chin and lifting your head to face him. “Please look at me.”

You reluctantly meet his gaze.

His eyes search yours, then flit over your face, and back again. “Why did it upset you?”

You snort before you can stop yourself, surprising both of you. You move your chin from his finger and glance back out at the horizon, grip tightening around your water. “You mean, why did your father swooping in and telling me what to do with my life upset me?”

“Surely, you knew—“

You spin on him.

“I knew what? That you wouldn’t let me keep my job? The one thing that keeps me sane? Or that I’d be forced to marry a man I don’t even know? To move away from my home, from my father, and work for a company I know nothing about?”

He’s quiet, watching the anger release from your shoulders. “I know this is hard for you...”

You laugh humorlessly, returning to the railing. “I doubt it.”

“Believe what you want,” he comments lightly, carefully returning to his place beside you, shoulder pressed to yours. “But this isn’t easy for me either.”

You hadn’t even thought about what he might feel, but...

“The other night, with your foot pressed against me, I would have thought this was very easy for you.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“We have a lot to learn about each other, Ms. Shin,” he replies, the use of your maiden name catching your attention. He turns toward the door and touches your shoulder. “I make what I want known, but never take more than what’s willing to be given.” 

His fingers drift to the necklace around your neck, fiddling with the metal draped between your collarbone. 

“I know the agreement is that you’re meant to be mine, but I will not take you unless you want to be taken. Make your choice and rest assured that whatever you want will be given to you. If this life...after you’ve tested the waters...does not meet your standards, I will make sure that you get what you want.”

He lets the necklace fall against your chest and steps away, sipping his wine on his way back through the doors.

You stare after him, at a loss for words and not knowing what to feel. Did he really mean what he said? Would he provide whatever you wanted? Release you from this hell if it doesn’t work out? Does he really have that kind of power over his father?

You somehow doubt it, but you can’t deny that you’re a little curious to know what he’d do if you did decide to leave.

Even after the party winds down and comes to an end, you can’t say you really know your soon to be husband any better than you had before, but you can say one thing…you trust him. At least a little more than you had before.

~*~*~

Your father’s eyes move to you in a moment of contemplation, the sadness evident to only you when your eyes meet. He nods once and focuses on cutting the steak on his plate. “They are.”

“I mean, there’s no reason to prolong the inevitable, is there?” the man continues, chewing softly. His eyes drift over you, pausing at your chest. He takes a considering sip of his wine. “Unless, of course, you want to go back on our deal.”

Your father looks up with a thunderous expression, fork stabbing his steak. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The old man smirks, finally tearing his gaze from your breasts long enough to give your father an innocent shrug. “I’m not sure what you mean, Henry. You’ve always been a man of your word.” He shrugs again, sitting up a little straighter and slicing into his own steak. “You should know that I am as well.”

You hear her father growl, but it’s quiet, and you look up at the man across from you as his foot catches yours under the table. He smirks, the toe of his Italian shoes drifting up your ankle.

“If I’d known there was a time limit on our little business endeavor—“

“You’d what?” the old man laughs humorlessly, setting his fork and knife down with a clatter. “Let your company fall through the cracks and go bankrupt? Lose your entire life’s work, your home?” He shakes his head when your father winces. “You’re a smart man, Henry. You should know that every business agreement has an expiration date. You either pay back every cent of the money you owe — with interest — or stick to our original deal.”

You tear your eyes away from the man still toeing your calf under the table to look at your father, his sad expression nearly breaking your heart.

Your father had put everything into his business, had tried everything he could imagine to make enough money to pay back the money he’d borrowed in full, but as the years went on, the debt continued to grow. He’d tried to wager with them, to work out a payment plan, but the Jeons wanted all or nothing.

Your father had been foolish to think his old colleague would accept anything less.

“Dad...”

Henry shoots you a look and Mr. Jeon scoffs.

“You allow her to speak at the table during business?”

“Please forgive her,” your father sighs, apology clear in his eyes before he tears his gaze from you. “She’s not usually present for such things.”

Mr. Jeon taps his fingernail against his wine glass, lips pursed as he continues to observe you. “She will need lessons on proper conduct.” He pauses, gaze shifting to the way his son is devouring you with his eyes. For the first time all night, Mr. Jeon looks pleased. “But she will make my son a fine wife.”

Your father stares at his food, pushing it around his plate in a way that displays his guilt. “I have no doubt she will.”

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Henry,” Mr. Jeon admonishes. “She’s getting married, not being stolen away for slave work. She will be taken care of.”

The man across from you smirks into his wine glass, foot hooking behind your knee and jerking you and your chair forward, chair legs screeching across the wooden floor.

Heat settles across your cheeks when you notice you’ve drawn all of the men’s attention and you clear your throat, tucking your hair behind your ear and staring down at your food. Your stomach is pressed firmly to the side of the table, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You feel the man’s foot drift higher, the cold leather of his shoe pressing into the warm skin of the inside of your knee.

“The wedding will be in two weeks,” Mr. Jeon announces suddenly, drawing your attention.

“Two we—“ your father balks. “Isn’t that a little soon? The planning alone—“

“The plans have been set in stone for years, Henry,” the man states firmly. “I’ve given you plenty of time to pay your debt, but I always have a backup plan. Something a successful business man would understand.”

“I—“

“Now, now, Henry, please relax. As I said, your daughter will be taken care of.”

You let out a quiet yelp and jolt in surprise when the toe of the man’s shoe presses between your legs. You meet his teasing gaze and part your legs, grasping your hands around his pant leg and trying to push him off you. The pressure on your core tightens, his eyes turning cold and commanding, and something twists in your stomach.

Your fathers’ conversation continues as if nothing is happening. You’re not so sure they even notice.

“She will be sized for a dress and whatever else she needs this week,” Mr. Jeon comments. “She will also need to quit that grueling job of hers. There won’t be a need for it once the marriage is final.”

“What?” you yelp again, this time jolting backwards, nearly pushing your chair over. The man across from you catches the chair with his foot and quickly rights it, finally pulling his foot back to his side of the table. He observes you with a frown.

Your father looks horrified at your outburst and Mr. Jeon looks a cross between furious and amused.

“You couldn’t possibly think we’d let you keep a waitressing job,” Mr. Jeon spits, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Our family has a reputation. You are to stand at my son’s side and lead this business when the time comes. Until then, you will learn.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, learn?”

Mr. Jeon’s expression teeters on cruel as he wipes his mouth with a cloth and stands. “You will learn about the business, how to run it, how to support my son.” He pauses, eyes drilling holes into yours. “And you will learn your place in this family.”

You feel angry tears well up in your eyes and turn away from him, ducking your head to stare at your hands in your lap. Your hair falls on either side of your face and you allow it to hide you from them. You don’t want to show just how terrified, just how upset, this all makes you.

You’d reassured your father that it was okay, that you would somehow be okay, but would you? Your waitress job isn’t much, doesn’t even pay much, but it’s the one thing in your life that’s yours. Your father has his business, you have your job and that grants you a modicum of independence. Without it, you would just be a wife. A Jeon. Whatever they want you to be.

You feel your chest ache at the thought.

“We will speak more of this at a later date,” Mr. Jeon dismisses, motioning for his son to stand. “Come, Jungkook, we have business to attend to.”

Jungkook takes one more look at you and follows his father, the sound of their retreating steps loud in the otherwise silent home.

When they’re gone, you quickly rise to your feet and begin to clear the plates in silence. It isn’t until your father puts a hand on your shoulder that the tears start to fall. You turn into his chest. He takes the plates from you, setting them back on the table, and puts his arms around you. You hug one another tightly, with him whispering apologies into your hair and your tears spilling onto his cotton shirt.

No matter how many times he says it, you both know a sorry could never salvage the situation.

There’s nothing more to be done.

In two weeks, you will no longer be a Shin.

You will be a Jeon, wife to Jeon Jungkook and daughter-in-law to one of the slimiest businessmen you’ve ever met.

There’s nothing an apology can do to fix this.

~*~*~